The Consequences of Dreaming
by NoPondInTheForest
Summary: Once the Doctor ran, he didn't dare look back, and never was this more true than when it came to the woman he loved. So how will he survive with his hearts intact when his oldest friend demands the unthinkable? And how will Amy react when she discovers a side to her Doctor that she never dreamed existed? (Reunion fic)
1. Prologue

**Set during season seven, when Amy and Rory are no longer traveling with the Doctor with any regularity. I've tried my best to keep it canon-compliant. :)**

* * *

**Prologue**

Amy Pond is the only one in the house who's not sleeping. Even her laptop, sitting forgotten in front of her on the cluttered desk, happily gave up the fight several long minutes ago. She hasn't noticed this.

Amy really should be in bed, she's been tired for hours already, but she dreadfully neglected her writing this week and sleep is an easy thing to sacrifice. But when over two hours of intense focus had yielded only one unhappy sentence, she'd left it for a bit, just to make herself a cup of tea- with the hope that it might help her wrestle some of her distracted thoughts into actual words.

It did, bless it, but she's not typing. Instead, she's contemplating life, chin in hand, letting her mind wander about in the most random places, which any good sleep-deprived, caffeine-enhanced mind is wont to do.

Since nothing in her life had ever been as random as the Doctor, it was inevitable that her mind would end up fixating on him; how even after everything she'd seen with him, everything she'd done, there was still the one thing she had never been able to get used to.

The sheer _unpredictability_ of it all.

Amy was a girl who had always liked to know what to expect, had always needed to be in control, and she was old enough now to realize that if traveling through time and space in a box couldn't change her- well, nothing ever would. Rory had certainly never dared try. But since the Doctor enjoyed predictability only slightly more than he enjoyed kissing Daleks, an attempt to be in control when he was involved would guarantee only one thing- frustration. His preferred way had all the schedule of a whirling hurricane, and if he happened upon any well-laid plans or preconceived ideas the first thing he'd do is loosen all their bolts, just for the fun of watching them fly apart.

Amy had never appreciated that, and stubbornly continued to insist he have a rhythm to his madness.

Well, when two powerful opposing forces were as close as they were, there were bound to be a few explosions, sometimes ignited by the _stupidest _small things.

Like perks_._

When Amy Pond first agreed to travel with the Doctor in his TARDIS, she was fully expecting the adventures, the aliens, and even the time-travel. Of course she was. After all, she had seen evidence of all of this before she ever stepped foot onto his ship. Had believed in some of it for years, even. Since she was seven.

But all of her prior knowledge of spaceships had come from sci-fi movies like _Star Wars_; they were supposed to be cold, austere machines, all design effort centered around the technology needed to travel through the great wide beyond, and next to none given to something as insignificant as the creature comforts of her passengers.

Of course, no fictional spaceship she'd heard of was ever a bigger-on-the-inside box either, so Amy was forced to begin changing all of her assumptions spaceship-ward the minute she laid eyes on the TARDIS, and especially once she stepped across its worn wooden threshold. She had been stunned and impressed right off by the glassy beauty and smooth lines of the console room, but it was more than a day and another adventure later before she got a real tour out of the Doctor. And as they explored the labyrinthine corridors, with him pointing this way and that, leading her under high archways and into gorgeous, cavernous rooms, saying such unexpected things as swimming pool (no, she hadn't believed him earlier) and gardens, and library, she was quite surprised to find that the word _luxurious_ kept popping into her mind.

A luxurious spaceship? It seemed so wrong to her, as she followed him around, quietly taking it in. Who needed all of this? Weren't deprivations part of the excitement of going on adventures; part of the way one improved and strengthened one's character?

Well. It wasn't _too _hard for Amy to change her mind about that as she sat, not much later, warm and sleepy and relaxed, in her en-suite's enormous sunken bathtub, happily mulling over what was sure to be the biggest perk of them all.

The Doctor had told her that while on the TARDIS, _there was no such thing as morning._

No mornings. Amy giggled and blew bubbles off her wet fingers as she tried to wrap her mind around such a concept. Morning, for her, had always been the most dreaded part of the day. Crawling out of a warm den of blankets, she'd always felt as cross as a bear coming off a long winter's hibernation. She wasn't tired, she had just always hated how it felt to leave her lovely dream-world, which existed so vividly while she was in bed, to go out into dull reality, facing a day full of things she didn't really want to do. When she was young it was school, then later in life, work or errands, with only the occasional lazy weekend to give her some relief.

But of course, all of these boring and disagreeable parts of life would disappear now that she'd begun traveling with the Doctor, and waking on an impossible spaceship with nothing but mad escapades to look forward to- well, it would be like waking up in a fairy-tale, and surely she would act the part of the princess.

Maybe she would even let him call her Amelia.

And she was right, in a way. It was like waking in a fairy tale, on her first morning-that-wasn't.

Unfortunately, she ended up bearing far more of a resemblance to the story's dragon than its princess.

No one was more greatly surprised by this than Amy. She was even more surprised than the Doctor, but only because the circumstance in which he had discovered this less-than-appealing trait of his new companion had inspired in him less _surprise_ and more _abject terror._

Not that he'd been without fault in the incident. He was just so ridiculously over-eager, like a child who's been handed a new toy and then told he has to wait before playing with it. It had proved nearly impossible to hold himself back. And who could blame him? They'd just come off their second adventure together, and it had been brilliant, and she'd been brilliant too, even more so than he'd expected. But he had kept her up for over twenty-four hours, and even the Doctor knew that was longer than a human would normally go before needing rest, so theoretically he also knew that she would probably sleep longer than normal to make up for it.

Still, that knowledge didn't prevent him from parking himself at the end of the corridor, listening hopefully for signs of life only four hours after she'd gone to bed. At six hours, he had his ear at her door, and two hours after that he was pacing the floor, wringing his hands and strongly reminding himself why it was not a good idea to go in and wake her up. (He had last traveled with Donna, after all, and the memory of what had happened when he'd pulled that trick on her was still vivid enough to prevent him.)

It was more than ten hours before Amy felt awareness pulling at her. Her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls and she groaned and flipped over in the bed, determined to go back to sleep. Then she remembered where she was, and felt slightly cheered, but the next second realized that she hadn't intended on feeling like this at all when she woke; she was going to slide eagerly and effortlessly from slumber, then from bed, with a smile and -who knows? perhaps even a song, and her disappointment on discovering that this idea now repelled her made her feel even crosser than usual.

She slit one bleary eye open to look for the clock, her scheduling nature forcing her to justify staying in bed now that she was awake, only to have the empty bedside table remind her that 1.) there was no clock, and 2.) she'd been delighted about said clock's absence last night. Facts one and two now served only to anger her further, making a return to sleep impossible, and Amy literally kicked the blankets off her bed in frustration.

The Doctor, of course, was completely unaware of all of this, but wouldn't have been able to follow her rather remarkable thought processes if he had been. In fact, he had begun to worry that something dreadful had happened to her, when at long last he saw the door of her bedroom crack open from where he was still prowling round at the end of the corridor. Immediately heading toward it, a wide, delighted smile stretched across his face as soon as he saw her cautiously poke her head out of the room.

Amy noted the Doctor's appearance with dismay. He was positively radiating vibrance and energy and enthusiasm, whereas all she possessed at the moment was a head of wild ginger hair and tired, swollen eyes. Now all of these elements are mostly harmless on their own, but can be lethal when mixed, and although the Doctor was a clever fellow this was the type of chemistry lesson he'd always had a difficult time understanding. Thus, he didn't recognize the danger signs, the menacing gleam in the puffy eyes, and continued toward her recklessly.

"Amelia Pond!" he bellowed happily and she winced at his volume. "Rise and shine! Though I must say you do not look particularly shiny at the moment," he added, taking in her bedraggled appearance with a grimace, "but I'm sure old Winston won't mind. Blimey, I forgot how you humans sleep half your lives away," his tone plainly implying that he found the habit to be one of the most annoying he'd ever encountered in all of time and space. Then, as if this wasn't bad enough, her sluggish reflexes hadn't been able to prevent him from seizing her hand, then dragging her down the corridor at a truly unbelievable speed.

A empowering wave of fury belatedly crashed over her and she yanked her hand from his, causing him to finally slow down and glance back at her. The dangerous gleam in her eyes had grown to become something frightening enough to make even the Oncoming Storm completely stop in his tracks.

A few extremely rude but cleverly worded insults to his intelligence, manhood, and clothing choices later plus a stinging slap to his bicep saw him cowering in bewilderment while she disappeared round the corner in a swirl of white nightgown.

* * *

Amy smiled at the memory. More than ten years of traveling, dozens of adventures, and a wonderfully developed friendship later and he still avoided her until she'd had her second cup of tea. She'd felt badly about the whole episode later, and had apologized, and although he hadn't been upset with her he was forever wiser and warier.

It was probably for the best, although once Amy had gotten over her ridiculously high expectations about the whole no morning thing she was easier to be around after she'd first woken up. Not easy, mind you, but easier- because she'd discovered that she didn't need her sleepy dream-world any longer. Why would she, when her actual life was now so much darker, so much madder, and so much better?

That was the first real perk of TARDIS travel. But nothing could top being the best friend of the Doctor, an amazingly complex man who'd saved so many lives, so many worlds. She'd had the privilege of being the one who saved him. Not just in a literal sense, although that was true too. She was a friend he could trust, he needed her, and being that for him brought her immense joy and satisfaction.

It was the sudden ache in her heart accompanying that thought which finally brought her back to reality. Oh, how she missed him. She hated it when he was so long between visits, when she couldn't help but start wondering if she'd _ever _see him again. Amy closed the dark laptop with a sigh and, ignoring the stiffness in her legs, got up and went to the window, pushing back the curtains. _Where was he? _she wondered, looking up at the stars. Unpredictable man. She could never know for sure.

She made a wish anyway.

_"Raggedy Man, come home."_


	2. Chapter 1

**The Consequences of Dreaming**

**Chapter 1**

If Amy hadn't wanted him he would've been there by the dozens, the very next morning. Probably at some horrible ungodly hour, robbing her of any chance to catch up on lost sleep.

But she'd packed their suitcases before she even went to bed, and by doing so had practically guaranteed that he wouldn't show up. The bags sat out for so many days that Amy had eventually been forced to relocate them from the lounge to their bedroom, mostly because she'd run out of answers for the inevitable _"so where are you and the mister off to, then?"_

That question was always bad, not only because it reminded her of how worried she was about her best friend, but after her struggle to respond with some believable lie, the person would inevitably follow up with something like _"you certainly are the travelers. Tell me about some of the other places you've visited!" _

This went on until Rory declared that the Doctor had made them just like him after all, all lies and secrets, and he wouldn't have it. The bags were banished.

Amy dragged them back downstairs the very next day, and said she just wouldn't allow anybody else in the house. And she meant it.

And she didn't, even though it got the neighbors talking. And it was worth it, once the long-awaited blue box finally materialized in their lounge, to see the joyous look in the Doctor's eyes when he opened the door and saw them standing there, waiting for him, surrounded by enough luggage to promise a long stay.

He'd finally come back, he wasn't dead, he was smiling, and Amy was profoundly relieved.

However, none of these _very good things _had rendered her incapable of noticing the rigid, steely tenseness of his body when she hugged him, or the overall impression of darkness lurking about his being, which had definitely not been there the last time she'd seen him.

Amy found herself wondering what exactly he'd been up to lately.

Now, lying awake in her bed on the ship five days later, she was still wondering. Five days on the TARDIS and, aside from one quick trip to 1887 to meet Louisa May Alcott, they'd done nothing but float in the Vortex. It was five days which had turned her wondering about the Doctor into outright worry.

He'd seemed okay despite her first impressions. They'd just set down the last of their bags and he was beaming, dashing round the console as usual, declaring that their first trip would be to meet Amy's favorite author.

_"No better cure for writer's block! Who will it be, then?" _

Amy didn't realize this question could have a wrong answer, but apparently it did, and it was _Agatha Christie. _

The second the name exited her lips all his joyful exuberance vanished, extinguished as easily as a tenuously flickering candle flame.

_"No. Pick someone else."_

She left it alone- after all, she loved _Little Women,_ and all its sequels, so she could accept not getting her first choice with fairly good grace- and when she said as much, breezy and casual and _not at all _watching him, his face had cleared somewhat and he'd set the coordinates gratefully.

Meeting one of her idols had been a thrilling experience for Amy, but that was all there was to it. No danger, no aliens, nothing; the closest thing to a threat was the possibility of Amy quite overwheming Ms. Alcott. Fortunately, the spirited young author had seen a bit of herself in the girl and had borne up quite well under her relentless questioning. All in all, it was a lovely day, thoroughly enjoyable, or at least it would have been if the Doctor hadn't been so- so unbelievably _passive _about everything. Curled up almost cat-like in the biggest armchair he could find, he politely listened to the conversation, sipped tea and smiled fondly whenever Amy got a bit too excited. He didn't prowl, didn't snoop, didn't insult anyone's intelligence or wrongly accuse the maid of being from Traxilon 7.

_Didn't insist on being the center of attention._

And after they returned to the TARDIS, he'd disappeared into the depths of the ship, not re-surfacing until more than a day later.

Amy Pond didn't do patience well. But until earlier tonight she had been the model of self-restraint, saying nothing but noticing everything- the moodiness, the bouts of silence, his extremely odd contentment with staying on the ship, and although he was making dozens of plans, there was no follow through. Just one excuse after another. It had been obvious that something was going on with him from the moment he'd appeared in her living room, but she'd been happy to keep a close eye on him and hope that he'd either come around on his own or, as his best friend, clue her in to as to what was bothering him.

But she also knew that he was beyond stubborn, especially when it came to asking anyone for help. She was going to have to pry it out of him. Of course, the Doctor loved her prying about as much as a cat loves a bath, even when he knew it was for his own good, but still- his extreme overreaction fell outside the realm of anything she'd been expecting.

Five days was long enough. When Amy wandered into the library earlier that evening, with the intention of looking for a new book to take to bed, she saw the Doctor sitting there and thought it was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. Her opening had been insignificant enough, but he obviously saw what was coming and he snapped at her, sharp words cutting like teeth, severing the conversation before it even became one. And then he just up and left.

Adding hurt, frustration and not a small amount of irritation to her worry, Amy let him escape and went to bed. And now that she'd fully thought things through, she slept, having concluded that if the moody alien had something to hide he should have never brought _her _back onto his ship.

* * *

Without even opening her eyes Amy could tell it was still quite early. She hadn't slept well. And that was saying something, because it was nearly impossible not to sleep well in her bed on the TARDIS. There was no bed ever manufactured on Earth that could match it for comfort, and no sheets from her home planet, no matter how expensive, no matter how high the thread count, could achieve the perfection of the ones she was currently wrapped up in, all silky and cool against her warm skin. Despite the comfort she felt tired and cross.

Stupid Time Lord.

Amy decided resolutely that she wasn't going to think about him anymore; he could mope away his next thousand years on this ship for all she cared. So she really had was no reason to get up yet. Especially when Rory was only inches away. Rory wasn't stupid, she thought. He was wonderful. And snuggly.

But when she lazily stretched and rolled over in the bed, hoping to curl her body warmly into a wonderful, snuggly husband -and found nothing but desolate, empty space and cold sheets for her trouble- all hope of possibly salvaging the morning was dashed. Amy blew out an irritated breath and opened her eyes. The room was already illuminated with the TARDIS' exceptionally good impression of an early morning glow. This did not make her feel better.

"Wonder when she'll starting adding chirpy little birdsongs to complete the effect," mumbled Amy crossly as she sat up, then reluctantly slid out of bed. Rory was up, the TARDIS plainly thought Amy should be up too, so up Amy was getting.

She wrapped herself up in her favorite old pink dressing gown, and stepped into a pair of thick slippers to protect her feet from the chill of the glass floors before exiting her room and slowly padding toward the kitchen. Fortunately, the kitchen door was easy to find even when one was sleepy- it was always different from the other doors- and today it was a full glass one, with a silvery metal bar running horizontally across it.

"This is new," Amy mused as she pushed the door open and entered the warm, fragrant room.

It wasn't just the door that was new. The entire kitchen had changed since yesterday, and now resembled a diner from the 1950's era, complete with a long stainless steel bar and spinny stools upholstered with round red vinyl seats. There were matching red booths along both side walls, and the refrigerator was big and professional looking, stainless steel like the bar. Pictures of various film stars adorned the walls, some familiar and some not. Amy remembered the TARDIS _had _been quite fond of running lots of 1950's films on the television recently. Must be a new phase.

The kitchen also contained Rory, who was standing at its far end with his back to her as he fiddled with something on the countertop next to the stove. In spite of the fact that she was annoyed with him for abandoning her this morning, Amy's lips turned up in amusement; he must be having trouble with the toaster again.

She watched him for a minute in silence, still blinking tiredly, until an enormous yawn threatened to split her head in two. Rory glanced back over his shoulder and smiled when he saw her standing there, all rumpled and sleepy. He wordlessly turned back and opened the nearest cabinet, grabbed a mug, and filled it from the kettle on the stove. As he handed the hot, fragrant beverage to his wife he was perhaps not entirely unaware that he'd just tipped the scales in his favor. The Doctor may have been a genius, but he was nowhere near as wise as Rory when it came to dealing with Amy Pond.

Amy settled down on one of the stools near him, holding the warm mug close to her face, inhaling the moist sweetness of the steam wafting from it for a minute before taking her first sip. Rory was back to trying to operate the toaster, or at least what they both assumed was the toaster, and it likely was, since it was in the toaster's spot on the countertop. It was completely unfamiliar, but that was nothing new.

The Doctor was fascinated with toasters, and never visited an alien marketplace without bringing a new one back onto the TARDIS. It was a good thing he picked them up so frequently since the latest acquisition never seemed to make it more than a few days before either being cannibalized for parts or loudly declared to be in dire need of improvement. At best these so-called _improvements _would render the thing completely unusable (_"but Amy, have you ever seen a toaster which could pop the bread fifteen feet high? Fifteen feet, Amy!") _and at worst it would end in a fire of some sort which the Doctor would then rush around madly to put out, but never without a kind of unholy glee in his eyes.

Today, the appliance looked like a flat square of silvery colored metal, with no buttons or levers to speak of. Rory turned it round in his hands, checking it over again to see if he'd possibly missed something, like, oh, perhaps a place to put the bread or a way to turn it on.

He was so incredibly patient. Amy figured her next plan of action would have been to throw the stupid useless thing across the room, but Rory just set it down nicely and tried again, this time attempting to balance a slice of bread vertically on top of it. To their amazement, the slice held upright as if by magic and the metal base began to heat up and redden. Rory grinned in triumph and poured himself a cup of tea, joining his wife at the bar while he waited.

They sat together in companionable silence. "I'm surprised he hasn't been in here for breakfast yet," Amy finally remarked, interrupting Rory's idle thoughts. "He's usually been and gone long before I'm up."

"The Doctor?" said Rory confusedly. "Why do you think he's not been in here?"

His wife's only response was one raised eyebrow and a very pointed glance around the room. Ah. Clear, shining countertops completely devoid of crumbs, blobs of marmalade, and dried-up dribbles of tea. No random alien gadgets he'd brought in to tinker with (since he could never do anything so dull as to just _sit and eat)_ then left behind as he invariably forgot them in the wake of something more exciting. No, the Doctor had definitely not been in here yet today. Right.

He looked back at his wife as she continued. "I hope this doesn't mean that he's still sulking. If he is, that alien and I are gonna have us a little chat. He has been acting beyond ridiculous."


	3. Chapter 2

Time Lords did not sulk, as Amy would have been quite indignantly informed (again) had the Doctor overheard her conversation with Rory. In reality though, the Doctor was by far the worst sulker on the ship. It could be triggered by any number of small things, including running out of foods he particularly liked, the TARDIS refusing to cooperate when he'd had a brilliant plan for the day, and especially by necessary trips to return the Ponds' to their current timeline so they could care for their _"dull domestic duties"_ (he did love it when he got to use that alliteration though).

Amy knew him very well. Far better, in fact, than any of the companions he'd had in recent years, with Rose being the only possible exception. Martha had taken care of him, but never really understood him at all. Donna, on the other hand, had been one of the best friends he'd ever had and he'd opened up to her about more than he'd ever told even Rose. Amy was a lot like Donna in that way, actually. He trusted her, even confided in her on rare occasions, but unlike Donna, Amy had an intuition that could see right through him, right through all his grandiose speeches and tactics, and she could determine truth from words left unspoken.

He'd known her for all of two days when she'd shocked him with this, so certain she had figured him out that she'd not only been able to draw the parallel between him and the Star Whale (which even he hadn't seen), but she'd also been willing to risk their lives as well as thousands of others on her belief. He was angry, but normally this kind of thing would also have terrified him, sent him running from her as far and fast as he could. Instead, for some inexplicable reason, he found himself willing to let her closer to him than he'd allowed anyone in a very long time.

Amy herself never hid anything she thought or felt and was always first in line to tell him off when he was being especially stupid. She was the closest thing to family he'd had since the War. He adored her, respected her, loved her.

And at the moment, he was definitely avoiding her. He didn't need to overhear anything to be aware that she'd picked up on his short-temperedness for days now and that her patience with him had run out. A confrontation was looming, and he was putting it off.

Amy wasn't quite accurate in her latest assessment of him, however. He wasn't sulking. His behavior actually stemmed from the fact that he hadn't been sleeping. At all. He was exhausted, but the physical tiredness was really the least of his current problem. It only affected his body, after all.

Truth was, his real issue was that every time he dared shut his eyes these days, he was putting his heart at risk.

The Doctor hated sleeping. Always had. He was a Time Lord, after all, and the Time Lords had always despised anything that made them seem weak, vulnerable, dependent. Mortal. Not to mention the fact that it took time away from their precious higher pursuits. Over millennia, the Time Lords had modified their genes to remove the need for sleep from their bodies as much as they possibly could, but no matter how superior a species they became, no matter how brilliant, they would never be able to defeat simple biology- and as long as they were flesh and blood, biology dictated the need for at least a minimal amount of rest and nourishment.

Rebellious as always, the Doctor had never exactly subscribed to his people's way of seeing it and early in life had avoided sleep more because it was boring. Why give in to long periods of unconscious inactivity when reality was so much better? So much to do, to see, to learn!

Then the War came, and after it came the nightmares, and he found himself longing for the days when sleep was simply boring. In fact, he craved the unconscious inactivity so he could just _not think _for awhile. But any time he drifted off, his defenses were lowered, and all of the terrible memories- so carefully compartmentalized and locked away at all other times- were able to escape their cages and terrify him when he was vulnerable, wrenching him from sleep, exhausted and shaken.

For a long time it seemed as if this would never get better, but then- Rose came on board. The longer she was with him, the more of his thoughts she began to occupy, and he began to enjoy life again, seeing it through her eyes. In a surprisingly short amount of time the haunting images and memories of war began to give way to dreams of her; of them, a future where she was always by his side. For the first and only time in his life, the Doctor found sleep could be a very pleasant thing indeed.

When he lost her, the nightmares returned with a vengeance, adding to themselves screaming and white walls and words never spoken.

But the TARDIS had gotten quite adept at protecting him from these particular nightmares the last few years. He had no idea why she wasn't helping him now, but she had seemingly turned her back on him, having withdrawn her telepathic hand-holding no matter how much he begged.

Oh, how he'd begged, and when the ship hadn't responded he'd assumed there must be something wrong and had tried making a few repairs, which she hadn't appreciated in the slightest. And so, having finally accepted that his oldest friend was refusing to help him, he came up with his own ridiculously stubborn, somewhat toddler-esque solution.

He just wouldn't sleep.

Avoidance had always been one of his favorite defense mechanisms, and he (quite illogically) hoped that if he avoided sleeping for long enough perhaps the dream would pack its things and go away. Not his best plan ever but- he just couldn't deal with it anymore. That dream had a far worse effect on him than any nightmare about the War ever had. Waking provided no escape, but instead was when it came to life and crushed him, consumed him, and he would find it nearly impossible to get it out of his head. Lately his weary mind, when not obsessing about the dream itself, was going round and round trying to determine its cause. And hopefully its cure.

He had yet to come up with a single theory he liked.

This had been going on for weeks by the time he found himself stepping out of his ship into the Ponds' living room, not really even sure how he'd gotten there. What he did know was that he was edging closer and closer to the breaking point. He felt utterly helpless, and he despised not being in control of his own body, his own _mind. _He was also exhausted, so much so that he hardly dared let himself stop moving. More than once he'd stilled and unwittingly drifted off, only to have the dream instantly reappear and rip him into mental and emotional shreds. Waking him before his body had the chance to benefit anyway.

He felt badly about how he'd been treating Amy, snapping at her and Rory over the smallest things, but he just couldn't help it. Snapping was better than screaming, which is what he really felt like doing. _Maybe that's how this will all end_, he thought bitterly. With him curled up in a corner somewhere, screaming till he went mad. The day was coming.

He'd had just enough energy left to take them on one trip, and now that it was done he had absolutely no desire to leave the Vortex. If Amy hadn't been suspicious before this would've done it, he knew. But trouble invariably followed him wherever he went and as he was in no state to save anyone, the TARDIS was the best place for him until he figured this out. He really should take the Ponds home, but their current presence was a comfort he found himself unwilling to give up. Amy had been surprisingly tolerant, but no doubt last night's incident meant the end of that.

He'd been sitting in the library, supposedly reading a book, but in reality was just staring at it blankly while he struggled with the increasingly powerful urge to just let himself drift away. He knew a comfortable chair in a quiet room was not the best place to accomplish this, but it seemed to be impossible to make himself get up. Held hostage by a cushy armchair. That was new.

Over and over, the room faded away as he slipped into a drowsy warm haze, almost gone, then he'd come to and shake his head, blinking rapidly as he fought it off only to slip back seconds later. As the minutes ticked on in this fight his frustration mounted, eventually pulsing so hotly through his veins that he drew back and hurled the book across the room with all his might.

It crashed satisfactorily against the wall with a bang like a gunshot, and came to rest wide open against the floor, pages rumpled and curled. The Doctor, fully awake now, stared after it as if wondering what had just happened, then leaned forward, elbows on knees, and rubbed his aching temples with a hand.

Poor Amy had the misfortune to walk in at this very moment.

"So...we heading to the end of the universe or something, Doctor? Never been on the TARDIS for quite this long before," she said. Her voice was oh so casual but when his eyes flicked to hers he knew the carefully crafted question was anything but. He had no defenses left against the irrational anger that stirred in his blood.

"Last time I checked," he replied icily, looking away, "I wasn't your intergalactic tour guide. This ship is infinite, with an infinite number of things to do. If you're bored, I can take you home." He got to his feet. "Although if you do go home, I have a feeling it won't be long before you remember what boring truly is. Don't expect me back to save you from it any time soon." He stalked off, leaving a speechless Amy in his wake.

So today he was hiding, in the one place he knew Amy wouldn't come in after him. Well, he hoped not. He was in the shower. He'd been on his way to the kitchen, hungry after spending the entire night in the control room- successfully awake- but as soon as he saw the back of the familiar pink bathrobe through the glass door he'd turned on his heel and headed the opposite direction down the corridor, directly to his private quarters. This incarnation loved a good soak, anyway.

He twisted the faucet to raise the water temperature to much hotter than he normally would have and stepped directly under the spray, hoping that the physical pain of the pounding, scalding water would prevail over the anxiety which was so relentlessly twisting his gut. His mind did work especially well when he was in here, and it had almost become his retreat of sorts any time he was trying to solve some complex dilemma. So far it hadn't helped with the nightmares, but all he was going for today was a solution to the Amy problem. Even though irritated companions should be the least of his concerns. After all, a sleep-deprived Time Lord was just downright dangerous.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, the Doctor reluctantly abandoned his favorite hiding place. He still didn't have a solution to either of his current problems, but since he was becoming rather red and wrinkly from standing under the hot water for so long he decided to be satisfied with at least having come up with where he would hide next.

He couldn't feel too proud of this though because it was far from an original idea.

On returning to the console room, he was happy to find it still empty and proceeded to occupy himself, as usual, with 'repairing' the TARDIS. After a brief glance at the console itself, he descended the short flight of stairs to fiddle with the complex tangle of cables underneath it for a few minutes, but this did not exactly suit his current need.

Ascending to the main level again, he decided he would be best off working on the wiring directly under the console. After removing and tossing his tweed jacket over the nearest railing, he lay on his back and slid under the console, his body now visible from only about the waist down. After he'd wriggled as far in as possible, he immediately pulled out his screwdriver and began sonicking the various wires, testing their connections, telling himself that since he really hadn't checked this in a long time it was a good thing he wasn't putting it off anymore.

Of course this was also a strategic move, as he knew this position would enable him to hide his face quite well from any interrogators who might join him later on. And it would easily stifle any meaningful conversation.

It wasn't long before he heard Amy's familiar footsteps enter the room. And then a muffled thud as she settled herself on the floor next to his feet. He strongly suspected that the none-too-gentle kick he felt to his ankle was not accidental.

"Did you lose something important way under there, Doctor? I told you it was a bad idea to play marbles in here."

He could just imagine her sitting there, lips pursed, watching him. Not that she could see much.

"I happen to be working on something quite essential and complicated, Amy, no need to poke fun. I should have thought to check these connections after I accidentally materialized in 41st century Drach last week. I am stupid, stupid, stupid for not thinking of it earlier!"

She didn't reply. Maybe she couldn't really hear him. Oh, well. That had never shut him up before.

"Anyway, these wires are the initial link from the console to the Helmic regulator, and an incomplete circuit could cause the TARDIS to materialize in the wrong era. Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn't figured out where, or rather, when, I was as quickly as I did? Do you know what the Drachian people _eat _in the 41st century? By that time, their native food supplies had run out and they were reduced to living off of-"

He trailed off abruptly, having turned his head to the side to look for a tiny clamp he'd dropped, and was shocked to discover the face of his red-headed companion less than an inch away from his own. No wonder she'd missed her opportunity to comment on his piloting skills. It must have been hard work for her, wedging herself under the console that quickly.

Her dark eyes met his frankly.

"Spill."

It was not a request.

He could do nothing but stare at her in shock as his mind whirred, in search of a solution to this unexpected development. Finally he nodded, and motioned for her to slide out of the tiny space. She gladly did so, and he followed her. They lay side by side on the floor, upper arms almost touching as they both looked up into the cavernous ceiling for a few moments.

"I'm just tired, Amy," he said eventually. "Not tired _of _anything," anticipating her next question before she could ask it, "tired, physically. Like how you get if I keep you out past your bedtime. Sluggish, irritable, no fun at all anymore."

His eyes held a bit of their old sparkle when they darted over to her and caught her glaring at him, offended. He smirked, having gotten the desired reaction, and she treated him to a very close up view of her pink tongue. He grinned outright at that and looked up again before going on. "I haven't been sleeping."

He could tell she wasn't expecting this. She'd questioned him on this subject before, _"don't you ever sleep?" _but he'd been typically evasive, and since she'd already had a hard time picturing him doing something so ordinary it had been easy to accept that he just, well, _didn't, _most of the time. Amy sat up as she digested this surprising information, and the Doctor followed suit, both of them facing each other but still sitting on the floor.

"How long has it been since you've slept, Doctor?" she asked finally. "Don't try to tell me you aren't certain, _Time _Lord. And I want to know in _Earth _days." Oh yeah, she knew him.

"Fifty-four days," he admitted after a long pause. "But before you start fussing too much," he continued, getting to his feet so he could pace around the console, "I'll tell you I've gone far longer than that without sleep before. One time I was imprisoned on Galagras Devinor and the the only way I survived was by staying awake the entire time and pinching-"

"Yes, well, fascinating as that is, Doctor, it has nothing to do with why you aren't sleeping now so stop trying to change the subject."

Amy had followed him on his trek around the console and had somehow, with a skill only she possessed, entrenched herself into his personal space. Her face was in his again, her intelligent dark eyes intently studying him. It was as if she believed that if she looked deeply enough, she could read the truth in his eyes, and not be forced to depend on his unreliable words. It always unnerved him when she did this; of course she couldn't read his mind, but sometimes he couldn't mask his emotions as well as he would've liked.

He wondered what she saw there today when her countenance softened and she stepped back.

"Is it nightmares?" she asked, voice tinged with compassion.

He took a deep breath, blowing it out before walking over to plant himself heavily on the captain's chair, patting the space next to him in invitation.

"Something like that, I suppose," he admitted finally as she sat down. "Well, not really nightmares. More like, oh, I don't know, a premonition? A vision? It feels more like a memory, but the thing is, it _didn't _happen. And if it was supposed to occur in my past, it didn't, so now it can't. Well, I guess it is possible to have a memory of something that never actually occurred. But then I should remember it, not just dream it. Anyway, the TARDIS usually blocks this sort of thing telepathically. At least she blocks the nightmares I have about things that _actually occurred. _Don't know why she's not blocking this. Wish she would. I've checked all her telepathic circuitry and I can't find anything wrong with it and she won't let me look anymore. She even burned my finger yesterday," he complained, winding up this incredible ramble by poking the injured digit up to Amy's face for her inspection.

She eyed it warily before standing up with a toss of her long hair.

"I'm not going to pretend that I understood even half the nonsense that just came out of your mouth. But have you considered that perhaps the TARDIS isn't blocking these dreams, or whatever they are, because she doesn't want to? Maybe she's trying to tell you something."


	4. Chapter 3

_"Have you considered that perhaps the TARDIS isn't blocking these dreams or whatever they are because she doesn't want to? Maybe she's trying to tell you something."_

* * *

The moment she said it he knew precisely why he'd been avoiding this conversation. He had been theorizing for weeks, fruitlessly, and now this little human girl hears about his problem and what is the first thing out of her mouth? The one possibility he had been studiously avoiding. The one thing he absolutely, positively did _not _want to hear, contemplate, or even give fleeting consideration to. Because if she was right, if the TARDIS was indeed trying to tell him something, then he was pretty certain what that something was. And to say he _didn't like it _didn't even remotely begin to describe the strength of his feelings on the matter.

Amy was pretty sure she'd struck a nerve when his only response to her question was to sit and sullenly stare for long seconds at the pulsating movements of the Time Rotor, his eyes tracking its up and down motion.

Her suspicion became certainty when the next minute he was suddenly all manic energy, jumping up and bounding around the console, pushing random buttons and violently yanking levers, then grinning widely when he noticed their tumultuous departure from the Vortex had her clutching frantically to the railing in order to stay upright. If she hadn't known him so well, Amy could have convinced herself that she had imagined his momentary dark mood.

"Well, why are you just standing there, Pond?" he asked as the rocking ship steadied, looking as pleased with himself as he always did when he was showing off.

"Go fetch that husband of yours! I've got the perfect day planned for all of us. Have I ever told you about the magnificent rainbow beaches of Florinia? I'd say they were beautiful but that doesn't do it justice! Florinia is in the Castor system, which has _three, yes, three, _pairs of binary suns. The planet orbits one pair and not one part of it is ever in complete darkness. It's the time of the summer solstice now," he said, yanking the monitor over to confirm the accuracy of this, "and the contrasting angles of the suns' light coming through the atmosphere along with varying temperatures have the loveliest effect on the sand- I can't describe it, you need to see it; you'll love it. Fantastic planet, nice and peaceful, not too touristy. Not feeling up to running for my life today. Hopefully we'll all get some rest and then I have something that I need to do."

* * *

"Look, is he waking up?"

The voice was female and overly loud but the tone was joyful. The Doctor struggled to regain consciousness. The first thing he noticed about his surroundings was that the room was too warm (odd that it bothered him, actually) and it smelt strongly of antiseptic. What in the name of Rassilon was going on?

Or perhaps more importantly, what was wrong with him? It certainly should not be this difficult to wake up. He gingerly opened his eyes and found he couldn't see a thing. Either this room was pitch black, or... well, he would rather not think about the _'or'._

He was in bed, but definitely not in his own bedroom. Or on the TARDIS. Also quite alarming.

The last thing he remembered was trudging through vibrant, color-streaked sand to the TARDIS after having a picnic on the beach with Amy and Rory. They had wanted to stay and lay out for the afternoon and have a swim in the gorgeous warm shallow waters of Florinia, so he told them to have fun and promised they would all meet again that evening to go out and sample some of the culinary delights the planet had to offer. He'd been so exhausted after the picnic that staying awake was no longer an option, and had fervently promised Amy that he would sleep (especially after she'd threatened to come and make sure). On arriving home he had headed to his bedroom immediately, falling on the bed without even removing his shoes.

Bracing a hand against the mattress, he attempted to push himself up into a sitting position and immediately regretted it as the blood began pounding fiercely in his temples. _Blimey_, his head hurt. He slid back down against the pillows.

"No, sweetheart, don't try to move; you aren't ready for that yet. Just lay back and rest," the voice bossed him, then turning away, "Where is she? Lord, the one minute she leaves this room and now he's finally waking up! Just like him, always has to do the opposite of what everybody wants! Go find her, for Pete's sake!"

Apparently he and the female weren't alone in the room; he heard a male voice respond with a quick _"yes ma'am"_ followed by the chuff of trainers retreating and the snick of a door being opened.

"Don't worry, she's fine, she'll be here any second," her tone had changed again, now evidently making an attempt to soothe him.

It wasn't working. He was growing more agitated by the second. How could this be? He knew that voice. Would know it anywhere. But this was fully testing the limits of 'anywhere'. Because it was _impossible._ He didn't know where he was, he was now alone with a person he fully expected to _never _see again, and to top it all off he felt as sore and stiff as if he'd been in a fist-fight with a Cyberman.

He decided to begin with an easy question.

"Why is it so blasted dark in here?" It came out as little more than a croak. He was having trouble even formulating sentences properly.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's not dark. Your eyes are bandaged."

"What? Why are my eyes bandaged?" he asked, hastily reaching a hand up to his face. Sure enough, gauze was covering his eyes in a thick band that went all the way around his head. "Did I injure them? How could I have done that?" He was regaining a bit of energy now. "I don't remember that!"

"No, no, no, your eyes are fine," she answered quickly, hoping to calm him. "Before you, well, went all unconscious, you told us to bandage them before you woke up. I have no idea why, but that's nothing new. I have no idea why you do half the things you bloody do,'' she continued, beginning to wind up into a full-fledged rant despite promising herself she wouldn't, "including getting my only daughter into these situations where one or both of you is gonna end up dead!"

"Seriously, Mum, you promised you wouldn't yell at him! Did you even look at him? He's hurt!"

Heart stuttering, Doctor turned his head incredulously toward the new voice. He hadn't heard her come in, distracted by her mother, but now that she was here his every sense was overwhelmed by her presence.

_Rose_.

Before his mind could even begin to process the enormity of this situation, he felt the mattress sink down as Rose crawled into his bed, further short-circuiting each and every one of his senses. Once she was close enough to be practically in his lap, her small warm hands clutched him to herself and she buried her face in his neck.

The Doctor had no idea what to make of this. She certainly wasn't acting like she hadn't seen him in years; it was as if she felt she belonged there, so close to him that he wasn't sure where he left off and Rose began. The tiny portion of his shock-addled brain that was still functioning told him there were a thousand things he should be asking her, should be saying to her, but even his ever-dependable gob was failing him. He was stunned, frozen, could barely even breathe. The scent of her was heavy in the warm air, her breath hot on his neck, and a minute later he was almost lost, fully wrapped up in a cocoon of Rose.

Until he noticed she was trembling.

Spurred to action, he shifted and tentatively wrapped his arms around her. Rose responded by drawing a long, shuddering breath, then she released it in a sob. He automatically strengthened his embrace, moving one hand up to cradle the back of her head as dismay yanked him back to reality. Oh, he hated it when she cried, especially when it was his fault, and this time he had no idea what he'd even _done. _

They stayed like that for an indeterminable amount of time, her grieving into his neck and him embracing her tightly, until she finally began to calm down. They were barely aware of the sound of the door opening and then closing again, as Jackie, in a rare moment of thoughtfulness, left the room to give them some privacy.

Eventually, Rose pulled back, snuffling, then she began wiping his shoulder and neck with the edge of the sheet. She didn't say anything.

"Rose?" he broke the silence, tentatively touching her arm, "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I'm always alright," she muttered under her breath, and the bitterness in her words stabbed him straight through the heart. Then he felt her hair brush the side of his face as she put her head down, and she said softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that; we promised each other we would never say that anymore."

Rose drew a deep breath, voice hitching slightly in her effort to explain. "I was just so scared, and, and _angry_ with you for risking your life again_. _You knew it was unbelievably dangerous, they can kill you so _easily,_ and _you promised to let Torchwood take care of it!" _

She moved away, so she was no longer touching him, and he felt instantly bereft. He itched to reach out for her, to grab hold of her and never let her away from him again. Only his years of practice at _not touching Rose _enabled him to force his hands into a white-knuckled grip on the blankets instead.

"So no, I'm _not _alright," she continued. "How can I be alright when I thought I was never gonna see you alive again? How can I be alright if I can't trust you? You _promised _me, Doctor. You promised me _forever. _But you just can't stop yourself, can you?" Her voice was stronger now, but growing distant as she roughly twisted the sheets in her hands. All this distance frightened him.

"Always thinking you're so clever nothing can ever hurt you. But you've got more than _yourself_ to think about now and- and _don't you dare _die and leave me alone here again!"

At that she seemed suddenly determined to get away from him, sliding away and off the bed before he realized what she was doing. He cursed himself and his ridiculous inhibitions, now wholeheartedly wishing he'd never allowed her out of his arms.

"Rose?"

She didn't answer.

He was still so confused, but the apologies were ready on his lips; the promises. The confessions. Whatever it took to take her pain away, to restore her faith in him, he would do it.

But the universe was cruel, and the words died unuttered as he heard her open the door, then close it quietly behind her as she left him alone- a seemingly impenetrable wall separating them once again.


	5. Chapter 4

**A.N. We had a blizzard here yesterday, so you get this a couple days early! Time to answer a few questions. Please let me know if you like it!**

* * *

That wasn't the worst part, when she left him there, alone and hurting. Far from it, because this time he had no intention of letting her get away, and the second that bloody door latched into place he clambered out of the bed, completely ignoring his head's throbbing protests at being held upright, as well as its dizzy, sick threats.

No, the worst part came later, after he'd somehow managed to blindly stumble his way across the endless room, after the victory of finding the slippery sphere of the doorknob under his grasping palm, after the feeling of elation that came with having finally, irrevocably, made up his mind.

That's when it would always show up. The worst part, in the form of a tiny, little, niggling suspicion that none of this was quite as real as it should be. Despite his valiant attempts to disregard it, it persisted and grew and then- all of a sudden he became very aware that his body no longer ached. He felt warm, relaxed, and almost blissfully heavy. And by then it was too late.

The dream was already fading, irretrievable, no matter how he might forlornly chase after it.

* * *

Afterward, he laid there for a long time with his eyes closed, just thinking.

He'd slept. For nearly five hours. That, at least, was an interesting change. He felt rested for the first time in weeks, and although he was grateful for this, it was more than a little unnerving. It felt like proof that the TARDIS had been behind this all along; that Amy was right. His ship was trying to tell him something. And he'd just been rewarded for paying attention, kind of like a dog who gets a biscuit when it finally performs a trick correctly.

Or maybe now she just needed him at his best.

Well, she should know that he'd be doing a helluva lot better if his long-sought answer wasn't such a terrifying one.

Still, what he felt most of all was the aching, gut-wrenching loneliness that the dream always left in its merciless wake. He was alone, Rose was gone, that would never change, so _why _wasn't he being allowed to move on? Would he never be free of some sort of vivid reminder? How many times must he lose her, even if it wasn't technically real?

It certainly felt real.

He would know, because twice in his life, it had been. Twice he'd lost her, once by accident and once to impossible circumstances. And if he cut to the heart of the current matter, his ship was essentially asking him to say goodbye to her yet again.

Impossible was one thing. He ate impossible for breakfast. But how could his old friend demand that he do something so- so _unthinkable?_

It no longer seemed as if he had much of a choice.

"All right, old girl, I'll try," he said to her aloud, shaking his head in resignation. "I don't like it, but you always get me to do what you want eventually, don't you? Even when what you want is impossible and listen; I'm not promising any results. If you remember, you're supposed to _prevent _the unruly Time Lord from breaking the laws of space and time, not coerce him into it. Why do _I _need to get involved in whatever problem they're having, anyway?"

He got to his feet as the TARDIS brushed his mind with her own feelings. His ship's sentiments toward Rose he _did _understand, only too well.

"I know. But still, you are asking me to go to the last place in the universe that I'd ever choose to, even if it was easy."

As he heard himself say it he smiled wryly at his own inaccuracy.

"Last place in the universe. Ha."

* * *

"Don't you dare even suggest what I think you're about to, Mister. You boys promised to take me out tonight, and there's no way I'm missing my opportunity to go out on the arm of the _hottest guy on the planet."_

The last five words out of her mouth were barely intelligible, so punctuated were they by giggles.

"Well I'm glad you find this so hilarious, Amy, but I think it's embarrassing! We came to this planet to have a nice, relaxing day- and it was anything but! Why would I want to go back out there and subject myself to more of, of, _that?_ And I also want to know why in the world you aren't mad! Those women knew I was your husband and they were coming on to me anyway! And all you did about it was stand there and laugh! Not exactly the reaction I would've expected!"

"Oh, but you didn't see yourself." Amy stopped in her journey down the corridor toward their bedroom and turned to lay her hand flat on her husband's chest, arresting his movement as well. Her amber eyes were sparkling with mirth and it was all he could do to keep from smiling too, when she looked at him like that. But he was annoyed, darn it.

"The look on your face when that purple-haired woman asked you what you were doing with a girl like me when you could do so much better..." she started laughing again, uncontrollably, apparently re-living the experience in her mind.

Rory scowled and ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"See, that's just what I'm talking about! She _insulted _you, Amy! I was expecting to have to hold you back from assaulting the woman when she said that, not watch you stand there and giggle like it was the funniest thing you ever heard! What if the shoe had been on the other foot and some guy had made a comment like that to you about me? You'd have assaulted _me _if I'd laughed about it!"

"No, I would've kissed you to soothe your wounded pride. Right after I punched the man who'd dare insult my _gorgeous husband. _Now lighten up, idiot, and enjoy the attention." She draped her arms loosely about his neck. "I think it's about time we visited a place where everyone thinks you are as beautiful as _I _do."

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then pulled back and smacked his arm, hard. "Now stop complaining and spoiling my fun. I am loving this and there's no way you are getting out of taking me to dinner tonight."

The Doctor smiled to himself as he overheard this snippet of conversation. He'd forgotten that little detail about this planet. The people of Florinia were humanoid, all fairly dark-skinned due to the constant sunlight, but their hair and eyes spanned every color of the rainbow. Red, like Amy's, was most common, but brown hair was extremely rare and considered the height of beauty, which explained Rory's sudden popularity.

They'd pre-arranged for the Doctor to meet them back on the beach, but apparently the Ponds had tired of waiting for him and headed back to the TARDIS to shower and get ready for their planned evening out. After finally awakening in his bedroom, the Doctor knew he was supposed to head out to fetch them but he just hadn't been able to summon the energy. Or the courage. He had hoped his few hours of sleep would fortify him emotionally as well as physically, but no such luck. His head was hopelessly snarled up with Rose; the sound of her voice, the scent of her, the warmth of her body branded onto his skin as though she'd been there moments earlier. Oh, it hurt.

It had been many years since that day when he'd left Rose on the beach with his double. Naturally, the pain of losing her had lessened with time, and he'd dealt with it the way he dealt with every other painful experience- he simply pushed any thoughts of her out of his mind as soon as they might surface. Oh, it still caught him unawares from time to time- he'd catch sight of a blonde dressed in pink, or perhaps stumble upon a book they'd once read together in the library, and an aching melancholy would overtake him for a time. But that was nothing in comparison to what he was dealing with now, when the visions of her were so tangible they'd ripped open wounds which had never fully healed, leaving him raw and bleeding.

He had been on his way to the console room after escaping his bedroom, but hadn't made it any farther than the library. He'd collapsed into the chair nearest the entrance and had just _sat_ since, staring at the walls, not even doing so much as fiddling with his sonic screwdriver. He was still there when he heard Amy and Rory making their way down the hall, and he knew it was high time to pull himself together. The last thing he needed right now was another Amy Pond interrogation, but fortunately for him, it sounded as though her entire attention was focused on teasing Rory.

Tilting his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut for few seconds and took a deep breath, gathering his strength. He carefully schooled his features into normalcy, yanked the nearest book he saw off the shelf and popped his head out the door.

"Sounds like Rory's quite the popular attraction on Florinia today, eh? That should add another level of excitement to our evening. It's the brown hair, by the way, since of course you were wondering. If you pay attention you'll see very few natives with brown hair. Hair color is how people measure beauty here; brown is rare but red is extremely common."

The Ponds were standing only a few feet away, still clad in their swimwear. Amy's hair was tangled and damp and they were both streaked with sand, a trail of which had been sprinkled on the floor like breadcrumbs as they had journeyed through the long TARDIS corridors. Amy's eyes widened when she saw the Doctor, and she immediately grabbed his arm and hauled him through the doorway in her excitement.

"Did you sleep this afternoon? I certainly hope so, because otherwise you missed it all for nothing! This was the most entertaining day I've ever had in my life, Doctor! Rory could barely do anything without tripping over all his admirers. This one woman was so forward she-"

"Now wait a minute, dear, the Doctor doesn't need all the details-"

"Oh, but I love details, Rory, details are what make life interesting! Details can help you solve a mystery, or make the right decision," the Doctor interjected, sharing a mischievous smile with Rory's wife. "And details can turn a good story into a fantastic one."

"Although," he added thoughtfully, "fantastic stories are best saved for dinners out with good friends. You can make a much greater impact over a candle-lit tabletop than you could in a rather dark corridor, in my experience. Dark and dirty corridor," he clarified, eyeing the sand sprinkled liberally all over the floor.

Rory looked even less thrilled with the idea of going out than he had before. "Well, good to know the two of you will be fully entertained by my discomfort this evening," he muttered. "Although," he continued, brightening and looking over at the Doctor as realization struck him, "_you _have brown hair, too." A slow smile spread over his thin face as he imagined the Doctor in some of the situations he himself had been in that afternoon. "And you don't even have a wife to hide behind." Maybe there _was_ some fun to be had tonight.

The Doctor looked alarmed. "Yes, that's true enough, I guess," he said, fingering his hair. Life really would be easier if only he was ginger. "But I didn't have any trouble when I was here last...although, I may have been blonde at the time. Not entirely sure. Maybe we should go somewhere else tonight." He felt himself beginning to side with Rory in this dispute.

But it wasn't going to be that easy, as this development only strengthened Amy's conviction that they should stay.

"I think the two of you are acting like children, wanting to run away and hide because some girls think you're pretty. Come on, Rory, we need to get showered and changed because I'm starving," she said firmly, picking up her bag from the floor. "Neither of you is getting out of this so stop complaining and get a move on!"

"And you, Doctor," she said, turning to him, "I don't know what you're so worried about. Women come on to you all the time and you barely even notice, you alien. In fact, I feel more sorry for them than I do for you," she continued, wincing a bit as she recalled a particularly memorable occasion when she herself had come on to him, and had been promptly and thoroughly rejected. "You are Mister Charming everywhere we go and the poor things have no idea that you'd never think of noticing them that way."

"What?" He was rather shocked by this statement. He wasn't charming. Well, not often. Sometimes, possibly, if it furthered his plans or got him what he wanted.

Amy felt a little bit sorry she'd said anything. She hadn't meant to make him feel guilty. "You don't do it on purpose, but it happens. Don't worry about it, Doctor," she stated, touching his arm fondly. "They just don't know you the way we do. That you aren't like the rest of us that way."

He still looked confused by this, so she clarified her meaning. "You know, that you just don't fall in love."

Even though the Doctor had supposedly married (depending on how you looked at it) her daughter, Amy was under no illusions about his actual feelings toward River. He cared about her, obviously, but the two of them had never had anything resembling an actual relationship, and Amy knew that was exactly how he intended to keep things. Perhaps falling in love and having the desire for a real relationship had been part of him at one time, when his own people still existed, but it certainly wasn't anymore.

She'd said this last bit offhandedly as she was beginning to walk away toward her bedroom, and didn't think anything of it when the Doctor didn't respond to her comment. The only reason she caught a glimpse of his face was because she'd looked back for Rory when he didn't immediately fall in step beside her.

The Doctor was still there, just outside the library door. Posture rigid and painfully tight, he stood statue-like, staring at the wall, and the raw, burning, unnameable emotion in his eyes made Amy catch her breath. But before she was even certain of what she'd seen he had vanished back into the library.

Rory was watching him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Amy made to head into the library after the Doctor but Rory stopped her.

"I have a feeling we need to leave him alone right now," he said gravely, looking her in the eyes. "And don't ask him about it later either. He's going to pretend that nothing happened and so are we. C'mon, let's go get changed." He grabbed her by the hand and she followed him, albeit unwillingly, to their bedroom.


	6. Chapter 5

**Extra long chapter for you today! Let me know what you think and I will love you! :)**

* * *

Of course Rory was right. As the three of them trudged down the narrow dirt path on their way out to dinner (since Amy won that argument), the Doctor was acting as normally as he ever did. According to him, he had even slept all of the afternoon, and claimed to be feeling better than he had in weeks.

So far, she wasn't sure if she believed any of it.

Rory didn't say a word about what had happened earlier, and neither did Amy, to her credit. But she really, really wanted to. Why had he looked so upset? Was it still just tiredness? She had other theories too, but none of them fit the Doctor she had come to know so well.

Or did she know him as well as she thought? Tonight was the first time she doubted it.

Amy sighed and decided her attention was better devoted for the time being to the lovely scene around her. So far, their little excursion had been fairly uneventful, being it was the quiet time of day when most of the planet's inhabitants were home with their families, so the path to the village was virtually empty. The peacefulness of the atmosphere was as alien to the three of them as the planet they were standing on, and she figured she might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Why be worrying about the Doctor and his non-human reactions to things that she was probably completely misreading, anyway?

It was easy to see why Florinia was renowned throughout the galaxy for its unique rainbow beaches. The sand could be any color imaginable, depending on the time of day, and the color could change instantly in a particular spot if there was the smallest increase or decrease in temperature, such as might be caused by a footstep. That afternoon, the Ponds had exclaimed in delight over the red footsteps they left on pink sand in the lower areas, and yellow footsteps left on green sand in the higher ones. It was no end of fun playing with the sand, its softness making it easy to form and shape, trying to get it to change to a certain color, or simply lying back on a towel and watching the landscape transform before their eyes as the twin suns varied their positions throughout the day.

The rainbow beaches weren't the only wonderful component of the planet, though. It was also able to boast of some impressive forests, which was where the three wanderers currently found themselves. The flora benefited from the constant sunlight, so the bushes and flowers flourished abundantly, and the growth of trees was so tall and thick that they made the forest itself quite dark. In fact, these forests were where most of the natives chose to make their homes, preferring the comparatively dark coolness as they went about their everyday lives to the constant heat and light on the barren beaches. The native people were also fiercely protective of their beautiful planet, and went to great lengths to keep it as untouched and natural as possible. There were no actual roads, just paths through the forest, which led to small villages. Amy thought it was like visiting leprechaun land, and was charmed.

Florinia's inhabitants bore little resemblance to leprechauns, however, and were actually a technologically advanced race, despite outward appearances indicating otherwise. They were capable of off-world expedition and many were well-traveled, educated, and sophisticated, and, according to the Doctor, this was reflected in how they ran their businesses. Supposedly, there were plenty of dining establishments to choose from within walking distance and of course he claimed to know which one was the best.

The TARDIS had been parked on the edge of one the forests, near the beach, so it was a bit of a hike to reach the nearest village. Amy inhaled deeply of the fresh, flower-scented air and tucked her free hand comfortably in her jacket pocket, enjoying how her new blue dress swished lightly against her knees. Her other hand was entwined with Rory's, and as she looked over at him they smiled at each other. It was early evening now and both suns were as low as they ever got, and the orange light reaching out through the trees was dappled and soft on their faces. It played prettily on Amy's shining hair, back-lighting it to give her an almost angelic glow. Rory's smile deepened as he admired the dually beautiful and deceiving picture it made of his wife.

The Doctor was walking a few paces ahead, as usual. Since neither Amy or Rory was a huge fan of being tripped, they had learned long ago not to follow too closely behind him. When he was in a hurry it was fine, his stride was quick and purposeful, but in a situation like this he was forever being distracted by anything and everything, coming to an abrupt halt when you were least expecting it in order to more fully examine some fascinating flower or insect or stone. He'd already done it several times on this short journey and they watched, smiling, as he did it again now- clumsy but purposeful as he climbed into the thick undergrowth. He reemerged on the path behind them a couple of minutes later, holding in his hand a gorgeous, vivid, aquamarine-colored flower that was almost transparent in its delicacy.

Rushing the short distance to now catch up to Amy and Rory, the Doctor was as excited as a child to show off his discovery. After he babbled on about it in scientific terms neither of them understood in the slightest, he fondly poked the bloom into Amy's hair and stepped back, his eyes warm as he admired the effect it created against her ruddy tresses. But before she could thank him he dashed off again, rounded a bend and disappeared from sight.

Amy felt a familiar surge of love as she watched him go. This was her Doctor, her best friend, at his best. He was completely unaware of it, but Amy knew that at times like this, she was seeing his heart, the man he truly was. How did he do it? How could anyone have lived the life he had, survive the things he'd survived, _done the things he'd done,_ without it breaking them? Oh, he was battle-scarred, secretive, even frightening at times- but somehow through it all the real him had remained. Eager, inquisitive, ever joyous over the smallest things, all layered over a deep well of love for people and living creatures of any sort. Love that he often tried to hide, she realized insightfully, as much for his own protection as that of others. But that love was an integral part of who he was, as impossible to hide as a sunbeam, and it was constantly shining through in gestures grand and small. Amy reached up to touch the latest evidence of it residing in her hair.

"Oh, and here we are! Beautiful! ...Ponds? Did I lose you already?"

The Doctor's words echoed back clearly through the tranquil atmosphere, and at first he sounded even more captivated than when he'd found the lovely floral specimen. It took the Ponds less than a minute to catch up to him but he'd already walked back their way a few paces, searching for them, an annoyed look on his face. He may have had many virtues but patience was nowhere on the list.

They'd finally reached the village, though Amy had a hard time seeing what the Doctor was so excited about. There was barely even a clearing, although there were cabin-like structures scattered this way and that. It looked more like a very large logger's camp than an actual village, and Amy didn't notice anything distinguishing private residences from establishments that would be open for business. They all looked pretty much the same; bark or moss covered wooden buildings, some with pretty flowering vines climbing up their fronts. All in all, it reinforced Amy's conviction that this really was Leprechaun Land, and she decided there and then that perhaps leprechauns _did_ come in regular human size, sans pointed ears, and were more interested as hitting on her husband than in finding pots of gold.

It seemed as though the Doctor knew exactly where he wanted to go, however, and he seized Amy's hand without delay and began pulling her along to the right and over a small swell in the landscape. A sparkling lake came into view with several low structures lining its shore.

"Good, excellent, it _is_ still there!" the Doctor announced. "Mdanda's on Lake Jules. They have live music," (sure enough, Amy could hear the tentative strains of a band warming up) "which I thought you might like, since I know Amy is so fond of dancing."

Surprised by his unusual thoughtfulness, Amy was about to smile at him in gratitude, but rapidly checked it when she saw he was wearing his _I'm amusing myself at your expense _face. Again.

"Better to get it out of your system here than in my console room."

Yep, there it was. She could see he was trying not to smirk, although he'd have you believe this was one of the biggest issues plaguing his life. It was one of the games they played. He'd work on the TARDIS, and since she and Rory never liked to leave him alone with his own thoughts for too long, Amy would come in and blare whatever music she was in love with that week. And sometimes she'd dance. Quite wildly. There wasn't much else to entertain herself with in the control room and she got tired of reading. The Doctor always complained and she always ignored him. This was how their friendship worked.

Amy regarded him in mock seriousness, hiding the fact that she was secretly thrilled to see him teasing her again. "You like it when I dance in the console room," she said matter-of-factly, "so don't start pretending otherwise. So does the TARDIS, since half the time she turns on the music for me without my even asking. And what's more," she poked her finger into his chest, "I've caught _you _dancing in there more than once yourself, mister. _If_ you could call whatever that was dancing."

Amy left no doubt that it was a very big _'if'_. Rory laughed out loud and the Doctor's eyes widened at having the tables turned on him. He just shook his head in resignation and laughed with his friends.

The restaurant itself looked no different than any of the other buildings in the village, but, as promised, the interior of Mdanda's completely belied its humble and innocuous exterior. The place was sleek and sophisticated, but the overall effect was welcoming rather than intimidating. However, the Doctor, who rarely cared about such things, immediately requested that they be seated out back on the patio. This was an excellent choice, and the three were now taking in a lovely view of the lake. The unique angles of sunlight that produced such spectacular effects on the beaches here played almost as gorgeously on the water's glassy stillness.

There was no way to know for certain if the food was the 'best on the planet', as the Doctor claimed (not without a lot more time than they cared to spend, anyway) but it was certainly delicious and more than lived up to expectations. But they weren't really there for the food anyway. The real reason that Amy had campaigned so vigorously for this was that she wholeheartedly believed that the Doctor really needed a nice evening off the ship where the three of them could just enjoy each other's company. It seemed as if her plan was working out splendidly, and she was supremely satisfied as the band played and Rory spun her round the large portion of patio that was meant for a dance floor.

It also didn't hurt that she was quite certain that she was the envy of pretty much every other woman there, coming in as she did on the arms of not just one, but two, extremely handsome brunette boys. Although, it hadn't taken the women long to figure out that while Rory might be unequivocally taken (Amy Pond death-glares _were _ a very frightening thing), the Doctor was _not_, and at first Amy worried that being approached by so many of them might ruin his tenuous good mood.

But he was being a great sport about it. As far as she knew he hadn't complained once. The only other time Amy had ever seen him dance so willingly was at her wedding, and even then he'd spent most of his time with the children. It was fairly obvious that all of this was him making an effort, for her, probably because he felt badly over how he'd been acting lately. Not that he'd ever say it. But Amy knew and she loved him for it.

The song was a slow one and as Amy swayed happily in Rory's arms she tucked her chin up against his shoulder, enjoying the scratchiness of his stubbly cheek against her smooth one. She looked around for the Doctor but didn't see him in the crowd of couples. What a surprise. She'd been expecting him to disappear long before now, actually.

"Wonder if the Doctor's off hiding in the shrubbery? I don't see him anywhere," she said into her husband's ear. Rory didn't respond, and Amy could tell from his body language that his attention wasn't entirely focused on her. She pulled back and saw that he was looking intently down the hill, toward the shoreline, angling his head in order to get a better view of something. She instantly turned out of his arms to look in the same direction, wondering what it was that had captured his attention.

"I _think _I might have found him," Rory said slowly, sounding rather nonplussed.

Sure enough, the shadowy silhouette down by the water was a very familiar one. The unfamiliar part about it was that the silhouette wasn't alone. Amy frowned as she recognized the second person as a woman the Doctor had been dancing with earlier. She was beautiful even by Earth standards, tall and shapely with waist-length dark hair. Her dress was simple but elegant, short and soft in an emerald color which set off her lovely dark complexion. The two of them were standing very close together, and though it was hard to tell from that far away the picture they presented was that of two lovers having a quiet conversation, her face tilted up to his as he smiled down at her.

Amy frowned, then she quickly remembered that, despite appearances, this was _the Doctor_; he never paid any sort of romantic attention to anyone. At least he was still around, and still in a good mood. Shrugging it off as nothing, she was about to turn back to Rory when, right in front of her astonished eyes, the Doctor raised his hand up to the young woman's face and slowly trailed a bold finger down her cheek. She tilted her head flirtatiously in response to his move, spoke a few smiling words which Amy could not hear, and then he laughed and twined his roving finger in a tendril of her dark hair. He played with it for a moment, smirking roguishly, before letting go to run his hand down her arm so he could tangle his fingers with hers. Every trace of his usual awkward mannerisms had gone.

Who was this person, whose posture now absolutely radiated confident alpha male? His best friend couldn't have been more stunned if he'd announced an intention to sell his TARDIS and live in a tent. For a full minute Amy could do nothing but observe him, blinking, but then she recovered and impulsively let go of her husband, intending to get a closer look.

Well, actually she intended to march straight down there, but Rory grabbed her arm. He shook his head when she looked back at him in annoyance.

"You know you can't go down there," Rory said earnestly, eyes wide, willing her to listen to him. "Yes, it's weird, extremely weird, I know, but you can't just go marching over like you're his mother or something. He's fine. He's not doing anything to start trouble and isn't that all we were hoping for from this evening?"

"He's not in trouble _yet, _you mean. Look at him, Rory!" she hissed, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "There is obviously something wrong with him; I've thought so for days now and this just proves it! Maybe he's sick with some, oh, I don't know, weird alien disease or something!" Her voice was getting louder and she had begun gesturing rather wildly in the Doctor's general direction, and Rory had to clamp down firmly on her arms and almost drag her back toward the building before she drew too much attention to herself. He didn't mind getting the Doctor out of her view, either.

"Amy, he's just talking to a woman, that doesn't mean there's something wrong with him." Rory was trying to be the voice of reason, but it had little calming effect on his wife, who still looked as though she were certain the world was coming to an end. He tried again. "Maybe he likes her. He did dance with her several times, earlier, you know."

The second Rory said it he realized that she did not, in fact, 'know'. He winced and wished wholeheartedly that he could shove the words back into his big, fat mouth.

Amy was thunderstruck as she turned on him. "I saw him dance with that girl _once! Once, _Rory! So when did this 'several times' happen and where was I?"

"I don't know; we were dancing! Part of the time we were sitting at the bar. Anyway, I thought I was here to have a nice evening with my wife, I didn't know I was supposed to be keeping track of everything that thousand-year-old alien was up to! Why should we even care, anyway? In fact, now that I think about it, showing some interest in a woman is one of the most _normal _things I've ever seen him do!"

But Amy wasn't listening anymore, so she missed this grand epiphany. She was too busy pushing her way through the masses of dancing couples, since she obviously couldn't spy on the Doctor effectively from where they were standing. Rory rolled his eyes and followed her over to the low stone wall bordering the dance floor.

She sat down on the wall, in a carefully chosen spot that was partially hidden by a large grouping of potted plants, since this was now clearly a stakeout. Rory did not object, figuring this was better than the earlier shouting and vigorous waving of arms. His wife undeniably thought this was a much bigger deal than he did and Rory could practically see her mind laboring as she kept a wary eye on her inscrutable alien.

"What if she's controlling his mind or something?" she said abruptly, after about ten minutes of this. Amy felt this theory was worth voicing, but Rory just looked over at her in sympathy.

"Dear, I know you're worried about the Doctor, and a lot of people do want to hurt him, I know, I've seen it too. But he can take care of himself. He's not sick, and I certainly don't believe _anyone_ could take over his mind." Rory laid his palm on Amy's cheek, gently coaxing her to look him in the eyes. "That girl is probably just shallow, Amy, likes his brown hair, right?"

Rory ruffled up his own brown hair and was rewarded with a small smile. Encouraged, he glanced quickly again toward the tableau by the lake then back at his wife, grinning widely all of a sudden. "What in the world could he _possibly _be saying to her down there?" he wondered aloud, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. "Can you imagine?"

Rory squared his shoulders and attempted a fairly respectable imitation of the Doctor's lordly tone. "Hello, I'm the Doctor. Nope, I don't have a real name. But I do have a magical time-traveling box. Let me show it to you. I know, but it only looks like it's no bigger than a cupboard. Don't worry. I just need to get you inside it and then you'll be _really _impressed..." Rory broke off; laughing too hard to continue, and Amy's laugh ringing out with his was genuine.

But despite her husband's attempts to distract her, Amy was legitimately worried. She knew it was a stretch, thinking the Doctor needed her help, and if she was honest with herself it was more that she'd far rather believe he was in trouble- trouble was easy, she could handle that, hands tied behind her back- than find out her Doctor had hidden part of himself from her for years.

She'd been turning the evening over in her mind as she sat there, reviewing his actions in a different light, and it didn't take her long to realize that he had been acting oddly again after they finished dinner. The music had picked up then as the evening wore on, encouraging people to leave their little tables and find a dance partner. Several women had approached both the Doctor and Rory, but Amy had been expecting that. Rory, of course, had been more than happy to avoid all of them and stuck closely by his wife, but now that she thought about it the Doctor had almost welcomed the attention. That in itself was weird. Really odd. Downright baffling, even.

Of course, he was a naturally charming person, interested in people of all sorts, but normally once it dawned on him that someone was showing him _that _kind of interest, he transformed straight away into the personification of uneasiness: all gangly limbs and awkward words, eyes darting about, looking more terrified than when staring down a legion of Daleks. He couldn't get away fast enough. Yet he'd known before they'd even arrived that that was exactly the sort of attention he would get here, and when it happened he spoke to these women with easy confidence, his gestures graceful and words smooth. She'd seen him accept one dance partner after another and had been grateful to him for it at the time, thinking he was on his best behavior. For once. For her. Well. Maybe he had been.

Amy glanced down toward the water again, but the Doctor and his brunette beauty hadn't moved much. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the grass, looking out over the water together, and the Doctor was pointing at something on the horizon. Maybe he had just found someone who was willing to listen to one of his lectures.

But..._why _was his hand spread across the small of her back, idly toying with the ends of her hair?

It couldn't be what it seemed to be. Could it? All Amy knew was that she didn't like it one bit.


	7. Chapter 6

The first words the Doctor used to extricate himself from the situation weren't clever.

"I'm sorry, but I need to go now. My ship leaves tonight."

They were even truthful.

The first thoughts that went through his mind when he saw the depths of the young woman's disappointment weren't pleasant.

_Stupid. Idiot._

His next thoughts were synonyms of the first thoughts.

Words and thoughts were rapidly followed by the deep desire to pinpoint the exact moment in the day that he'd made the fantastic decision to be, not the Doctor, but rather a petulant five-year-old. And frustration that he couldn't change it, even though he was a _Time Lord with a time-machine._

What made it worse was that she was actually a nice girl. Clever even. Not clever enough to see through his lies, but few people were.

_Amy._

He bid her goodnight, and goodbye. Her eyes had implored him to kiss her, the perfect romantic ending, seeing as they were to be parted forever and all. But his guilty conscience wouldn't allow it; he had gone much too far with this little game already. He brushed his lips lightly across her forehead, then turned and walked away. Full aware that she wasn't the only person watching him go, he made his way up the hill, taking the long way around the building, purposefully buying himself a few extra minutes before he had to face his companions.

* * *

The first feeling Amy had when she saw the Doctor take his leave was of complete and utter relief. For the last several minutes, she'd been wondering if the TARDIS was possibly going to have another inhabitant.

The next feeling Amy had was, amazingly enough, pity. For the girl he left standing there. She looked sad and dejected, not moving at all until the Doctor rounded the bend and was no longer visible.

Followed by surprise, that she'd had it all backward. Maybe the _girl _had needed to be protected from the_ Doctor._

Amy was startled when Rory touched her arm to get her attention. She watched as he stretched and stood up, then he offered his hand to pull her to her feet. "I'm sure he's ready to go," Rory said. The only feeling Rory had at the moment was happiness that it was finally time to leave. He was sick of sitting on the cold wall, spying on the Time Lord. "And please try to show him some mercy," he added. "We don't know for sure what was going on, and to be honest, I still don't understand why it's bothering you so much."

Amy met his eyes with her own as he pulled her up. "I've been asking myself that same question," she confessed. "It's not like I'm jealous or anything. I guess I just, I thought I knew him _so _well. Maybe I even prided myself on that, I don't know. But this has made me realize that there's no way I can know _everything _about him. So what that we've been in his life for about ten years now? He's been around for more than nine-hundred. Ten years is a tiny amount of time, the blink of an eye for him."

Rory wrapped his arm snugly around her waist. "Does that make you feel like maybe you aren't as important to him as you thought?" he asked, his voice full of sympathy.

"No, I don't think so," she answered hesitantly. "Well, maybe a bit. But Rory, have you ever thought about the fact that we know next to nothing about his past? Sure, he talks about when he visited a certain planet or time period and he tells us stories about what happened, but he never talks about who was there with him. He never shares anything _personal. _I feel like an idiot for not really noticing it before." Her eyes were sad and she chewed her bottom lip, staring at the ground.

Rory leaned in and tilted her chin up with two fingers. "Hey, the only person I want you calling an 'idiot' is me." He smiled at her and got a tiny smile in return. "And I'm sure the Doctor has reasons why he doesn't share certain things," he rationalized. "Maybe he's trying to protect us. Or himself. Maybe it hurts him to think of his past. But if there's one thing I am certain of it's that you are very important to him. He loves you."

Oh, how she adored her extremely wise husband. Amy knew he was right. She felt a little bit better.

* * *

It wasn't hard to tell that the Doctor had slipped into another of his black moods, so the walk back to the TARDIS was mostly silent. Amy was content to leave him be for the moment because she was still thinking things over, plus she knew that when the Doctor got like this it was useless to try and talk to him anyway. Time and place. That didn't mean he was off the hook, though. Not even close.

They had just about reached the edge of the forest where the TARDIS was parked when something finally clicked in Amy's mind. She'd known there something missing; something else bothering the Time Lord that he wasn't telling her. He'd claimed it was simply tiredness and she'd accepted it at the time, but he'd slept that afternoon and his behavior had just gotten odder. He'd acted extremely out of character twice in just the few short hours since, and until this moment she'd thought of them as separate incidents. But now she linked them together and all of a sudden everything made sense, causing Amy to clearly realize three things:

1. The Doctor hadn't fallen for that girl.

2. His behavior that evening _had _been for Amy's benefit, but not because he was trying to make things up with her.

3. He had been a complete _git._

"I hurt your feelings earlier, didn't I?" she said suddenly, to his back. The Doctor's pace faltered, and she could see him stiffen, but he didn't look back at her. "When I said you couldn't fall in love. It made you angry. Is that why you were acting like Romeo all night? To prove me wrong?"

He turned around then, but only because he didn't really have a choice, and attended her with deep-set eyes. They weren't giving much away, but she could see the tiniest amount of guilt there.

Her eyebrows shot up. "I'm right, aren't I?" Amy's jaw dropped, and she gave him a look that left no doubt that she thought he was quite possibly the stupidest person she'd ever seen. "Bit of an overreaction, don't you think? Why would you _do _that? That poor girl looked like she thought you were her Prince Charming! I still don't know how you pulled it off, by the way, but you hurt her, do you realize that? Was it worth it?" Her cheeks were flushed with anger as she glowered at him. "Well, your plan worked; I hope you're satisfied. You definitely showed me that I misjudged you."

She brushed by him angrily, stalked up to the TARDIS and pushed inside. It was impossible to tell if Amy or the TARDIS herself was responsible for the significant _slam _of the door.

The Doctor stared after her, looking defeated and guilty. He certainly hadn't set out to try and _prove _anything to her but once the opportunity had presented itself he had just acted on impulse. Amy certainly had him pegged correctly when she said he couldn't be trusted when he was emotional. Why couldn't he have just let her comment go? He knew she hadn't meant to hurt him, but oh, it was such terrible timing for her remark to come right after that dream had gotten him so twisted up and aching, with vivid images of _the girl he loved_ so fresh in his mind.

Rory made no move to follow his wife but instead walked over to the Doctor and stood quietly next to him for a few moments. "She's angry," he announced unnecessarily. "Just give her time to cool down; she'll be fine. You know how she is."

The Doctor looked at him then, grimacing. "I feel terrible. She's right, I completely overreacted, and I hurt people. Hurt Amy. I hate it when I do that," he said quietly, shaking his head.

Rory responded to this in his usual frank and open way. "So...what exactly were you thinking, anyway? Why did Amy get you so upset? She had good reason for believing the way she did, by the way. You've always acted as if something as, as, _primitive_ as being in love was beneath you. Like the whole having a job thing. It's something humans do but Time Lords do not. When we saw you down by the water with your arm around that girl Amy thought you were sick, or under mind-control, or something. Says a lot, doesn't it? She thought one of those things far more likely than you actually being interested in someone."

This conversation was heading into territory _far _out of the Doctor's comfort zone. Rory watched him as he rubbed one hand against the back of his neck, then pulled it through his thick brown hair, thoroughly disheveling it. He met Rory's eyes briefly, then looked away again, probably hoping his friend would give up and go away if he fidgeted for long enough. But Rory, of course, was nothing if not patient.

"It was childish," the Doctor responded finally, fiddling with one of his buttons. "No better way to explain it, really. I _wanted _you to believe I felt...love...was a human emotion and then I childishly got angry when you- when _she_, did believe it. Also, well... there were other underlying circumstances, things neither of you know about, that have been bothering me recently which contributed to it. I wasn't thinking clearly, to say the least."

He could see the next obvious question on Rory's lips, "_What's been going on?" _but since the Doctor hadn't the slightest intention of answering that one, he plowed on.

"I think I've just gotten so used to her always just _knowing," _he tried to explain. "Knowing better, knowing me, so well that even if it's too hard be honest about some things she knows the truth anyway. She understands. I've never had anyone like that in my life before," he said solemnly, then amended the statement with words so soft Rory could barely hear them.

_"Almost never." _

Lost in thought, the Doctor gazed skyward for a few moments before casting his eyes back to his friend. "Anyway, it was foolish of me to expect that of her; foolish to react that way. I'm sorry, Rory. And I need to apologize to her as well." He was about to head into the TARDIS, but Rory stopped him with a hand on his arm. The Doctor looked at him in surprise.

"Something still doesn't add up, Doctor," he said slowly as he mulled over the Time Lord's words. "I don't think this is just about you being misunderstood and not liking it. For instance, Amy also didn't know that you needed to sleep, before you admitted it today. You led us to think that sleeping was also one of those human things that are too primitive for Time Lords and we both believed it for years. Yet you weren't angry when she didn't figure that one out for herself. So that tells me that the subject of sleeping isn't a touchy one, but the... other subject... _is." _

Rory was kind of proud of his insightfulness as he waited for the Doctor's reaction. He didn't really expect an actual response in words per se, but he was hoping to at least see enough in his friend's face to determine if he was correct on this point.

So Rory was beyond surprised when the Doctor just gazed at him levelly and answered with clear, direct words that left no room for misinterpretation.

"Yes, well, when you've had your hearts broken it's usually a touchy subject."


	8. Chapter 7

**I wasn't planning on updating until the weekend, but you guys have motivated me with your lovely reviews! Thank you so much!**

**And so the Doctor begins to attempt the impossible...**

* * *

_"Yes, well, when you've had your hearts broken it's usually a touchy subject."_

* * *

As soon as the words were out the Doctor beat a hasty retreat into the TARDIS, nervously muttering something about smoothing things over with Amy. Rory kindly allowed him to make his escape without further comment.

Secretly, he was rather grateful to be left outside alone for a bit, so he could think, and the quiet beach provided the perfect atmosphere for that activity. Especially when compared to the chaos likely going on inside the console room.

Rory rested his weight against the smooth side of the ship, idly tracing the wood-grain with one finger as he replayed their conversation in his mind. Incredible. He'd been traveling with the Doctor for so long now that he'd become immune to almost everything, but _this- _now this was surprising. Could the Doctor have possibly meant it the way it sounded?

Rory tried to picture the Time Lord, the man he traveled with, the same one who just couldn't fathom why he and Amy hadn't wanted _bunk beds _in their bedroom, actually being _in love _with someone -then half-laughed at the strange image forming in his mind. It was just so hard to believe. Yet when he held the Doctor's behavior that evening up in the light of those words, it was the only thing that made any sort of sense.

But who could she have been? And what had happened to her? Well, no matter how much he wondered about it, or how hard he tried to reconcile the idea with a person he'd long since started seeing as more alien than man, Rory was certain he'd never really know the truth anyway. What he did know, now, was that his friend was hurting, and he felt sorry for him.

He stepped away from the ship, scuffing his feet around in the soft sand as he debated as to whether or not he ought to share this rather astounding information with his wife. It would definitely go a long way toward reinstating the unlucky Time Lord into Amy's good graces, but at the same time he felt certain the Doctor had shared this tiny glimpse of personal history only because he trusted Rory to listen, then let it go. Amy was a different story. Toss her a juicy bone like that and she'd never leave it until she had pried, snooped, harassed, or even tricked the Doctor into giving her every possible detail.

Better not tell her, Rory decided; there'd been enough turmoil on the ship lately. That meant the Doctor was on his own to figure out how to smooth things over with her tonight.

Rory snorted and leaned back on the blue box again, imagining how that must be going. He didn't envy the man. Although, if he was honest, it was kind of nice for the Doctor to be the one in trouble for once, instead of him.

But before he had time to fully enjoy this rare reversal of fortune, the one in trouble popped his head out the TARDIS doors so unexpectedly that Rory jumped.

"So that's where you've got off to!" The Doctor's voice was far too loud for the quiet atmosphere and his words echoed, as though he wished for half the planet to hear of how he'd been kept waiting. Impatience was etched into every line of his face and he seemed to have already forgotten the day's events completely, including the fact that he himself had been standing in this precise location only minutes earlier.

He glared at Rory. "What are you doing out here? Have you decided to stay- start a modeling career, perhaps? We were about to dematerialize without you!"

Biting back a retort, Rory squeezed his eyes shut tightly, drawing a long breath through his nose. He was feeling decidedly less sorry for the Doctor by the second.

All of a sudden it was quiet and Rory opened his eyes to find that the Time Lord had already disappeared back into the ship. He shook his head in exasperation as he reluctantly followed through the open doors. In immediate view was Amy, who was sitting on the jump seat in her usual spot, and as he entered she shot him a look of annoyance that was almost identical to the one he'd just gotten from the Doctor. Rory suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. How in the world had that crazy alien managed to talk her round so quickly?

He gave a half-second's consideration to actually verbalizing that question before silently joining his wife on the jump seat. It wasn't worth it to even bother; he wouldn't lower himself to their level. Although, who could blame Rory if he did allow himself the small satisfaction of burning holes in the back of the tweed jacket with his eyes?

The Doctor was blissfully unaware of this emotional assault to his clothing as he watched the monitor, entering the coordinates as his right hand blindly reached for the buttons to start the dematerialization sequence. The TARDIS jolted to life and the Doctor dashed to the other side of the console, hands in action all the way, then carelessly flicked the switch to put them into the Time Vortex. Amy and Rory clutched at their seat reflexively as the ship surged into action.

These precautions proved to be unnecessary as their ride slowed within seconds, then stopped abruptly.

"We've landed?" said Amy, slowly getting to her feet. "Why've we landed somewhere already?" She eyed the Doctor in high suspicion. "Haven't you had enough fun for one night?"

"I'm not taking you anywhere for fun, Pond. The day is over, of course. I've taken you home. Thought you might like to sleep in your own beds for once."

Amy's eyebrows knitted together. "Don't be stupid, Doctor. We can sleep just as well in our beds on this ship and you know it. You never land anywhere while we're sleeping unless you're sneaking off to do something without us." He spluttered indignantly at this but she cut him off. "And that's when we're still on the TARDIS. Since you're obviously keen to get us off this ship, that means you're about to go do something stupid, _alone,_ and you don't want us to find out about it." She crossed her arms, a picture of stubborn defiance. "Nope, not leaving."

The Doctor frowned at her, then looked to Rory imploringly. Rory met the Doctor's eyes as he got to his feet and went to stand by his wife. He slowly shook his head, a serious look on his face.

"Sorry Doctor, but I'm with Amy on this one. I really don't think it's a good idea for you to swan off somewhere alone right now."

"In case you've forgotten, this is _my _ship and I've been handling things on my own for the better part of nine-hundred years. I should think I can take care of myself for one night without your help. I'll be back for you in the morning." He meant this as a command, even said it in his best _this is not an option _voice, the one he used to make armies turn and run. But for some unfathomable reason, these two little humans were unmoved. Literally.

"Nope," Amy repeated, drawing the word out as though trying to get the point across to an unruly and somewhat slow child, and Rory braced himself. Whenever his wife and the Doctor disagreed this strongly it was kind of like watching two locomotives hurtling toward one another on the same track, both refusing to move out of the way or even slow down. Terrifying, but you just can't help but look on in morbid fascination.

But tonight the Doctor surprised him. "Listen," he said, suddenly the personification of reasonableness, "I told you earlier today that I needed to take care of something. I've, well, the TARDIS has been indicating lately that there may be a rift, a _small _rift, in the fabric of space and time. When the Time Lords still existed, one of their duties was to prevent this sort of thing occurring, or fix it if it did. As the last Time Lord this responsibility now falls to me alone. But it's boring, Ponds. I never know where the problem lies exactly and sometimes it can take weeks to find. Why would you want to be on the TARDIS for all that time, wasting weeks of your short little lives, instead of staying home for just one insignificant night?"

But even these substantial arguments made no impact, unless he counted the fact that Amy made a face at his 'short little lives' comment and Rory rolled his eyes.

"I can come back for you in the morning," he repeated, for some reason still hoping to win this battle, "and we'll be off again, together, for the grand adventures and all that. You won't miss a thing; time machine, remember?" His smile was charming, but neither of his friends smiled back.

"Doctor, it's not that we're worried about missing out on something," said Rory. "We're worried about you. You've just admitted it yourself that you haven't been thinking straight and we aren't leaving you alone right now, no matter how boring it might be."

Charm was immediately discarded in favor of silent outrage (which he was admittedly better at). In truth, he just didn't know how to argue with this. Stupid Rory and his stupid logic.

The atmosphere in the room was quickly deteriorating and Amy decided that maybe it would be best to try and smooth things over a bit. She came close to the Doctor and straightened his bow tie, then smoothed his lapels with soothing hands while she looked him in the eye. "You need us right now, Raggedy Man, whether you admit it or not."

But the Doctor was having none of it. His scowl deepened, eyes darting back and forth between his two mutinous companions from under lowered brows. Was he really not in charge here? On his own ship?

_"Fine!" _he growled finally, roughly twisting round to remove himself from Amy's grasp. He paced away across the room, then just as quickly turned and came back, pointing an aggravated finger first at Amy, then Rory.

"You win! I'm not arguing about it anymore, but no one better come crying to me when you're tired of floating in the Vortex for days on end with nothing new to see." Two heads nodded in eager cooperation.

"And," he added, sticking his face so close to Amy's that his nose was almost touching hers, "_and_, if we do end up somewhere, I want you to promise me you will stay _in the TARDIS unless I say otherwise." _Eyebrows raised, he looked to each of them for their response.

Having already gotten their way in the matter, both Ponds agreed to his addendum without hesitation. Rory may have meant it entirely, but Amy had made- and broken- this particular promise so many times that she was surprised he even bothered asking her to say it anymore, and was even more surprised when her answer actually seemed to calm him.

Agitation subsiding to mere grumpiness, he reluctantly put the ship back into the Vortex with all three passengers still on board. "What are you standing around for? I said no more fun tonight," he grumbled, as he moved over to the scanner and began checking its readouts. "Off to bed with you then."

Amy and Rory looked at each other and shrugged. Rory inclined his head toward the staircase, andAmy nodded to him but then stepped up quickly behind the Doctor, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you, Doctor," she said, smiling sweetly. "See you in the morning." She skipped over to her husband, and grabbing him by the arm, pulled him up the stairs and away down the corridor.

The Doctor watched them go, a reluctant smile forming on his face. That stubborn girl. She really knew how to manipulate him. And for some reason, he loved her all the more for it.

* * *

"Rory, how many times do I have to tell you, 'no toast in the console room'?" said the Doctor irritably, without looking up from where he was working near the console.

"It's for you. Amy says you need to eat something."

"I don't need her to tell me when to eat; I'm not on some feeding schedule like you humans- oh, it has jam!" He gleefully reached over and snatched the plate of toast from Rory's hand. The snack had nearly made it into his mouth when a strange expression spread over his features. He put the toast down and shot a sharp look at the other man.

"Where'd you get jam? We're out of jam. Have you been hiding it from me?"

But the accused jam thief showed no outward sign of guilt. "It was in the refrigerator."

"No, I distinctly remember searching for jam in the refrigerator yesterday and it was gone. I want to know where you got it."

"Okay, Doctor, you got me. I snuck off to the market and picked up a few jars of jam while you were busy flying us through the Vortex."

"Ha, ha, very funny. Don't play games with me." Wise, all-knowing green eyes studied Rory intently, coming to a swift judgment. "I think you're a jam hoarder. Probably have all the jars hidden away somewhere; maybe under your mattress or something where you know I won't look."

Rory's jaw dropped in disbelief. "You are seriously accusing me of keeping _jars of jam_ under my mattress? Do you even _hear_ yourself? I was trying to be nice, bringing you something to eat and-"

"Leave Rory be, Doctor," Amy's loud voice rang out through the console room, startling both of them. Where had she come from? She was carrying three cups of tea but still somehow managed to gesture threateningly in the Doctor's direction. "He's not hiding the jam from you; the TARDIS is. She knows it's all you've eaten for the past few days."

"Is not!"

"Yes, it is. Straight out of the jar, too. _So_ disgusting. You could at least use a spoon."

Rory instantly regretted what he'd had for breakfast that morning.

The Doctor looked sulky as he took a bite of his toast. They'd been in the Vortex for almost two weeks now, and all three of them were beginning to go a bit mad with boredom, though none of them would ever admit it.

The yarn he'd spun about having to search out and repair a rift in time had shown itself to have more truth to it than the Ponds had expected. He'd been so determined to get rid of them that they were sure whatever he was up to was at least death-defying, if not universe ending. But they'd actually never seen him do so much of, well... nothing. He'd barely even left the console room, spending all his time staring at the spanner, analyzing readings, or recalibrating the TARDIS. Truthfully, at this point the Ponds were feeling more than a bit sorry they hadn't listened to him, but even if they had to stay here in the TARDIS for a year they'd never dare voice that to the Doctor or ask to go home. Indeed, he was already being quite impossible about it, taking every opportunity to point out how innocent he was, and that if they'd gone home and trusted him for once they could've skipped all this, just like he'd promised.

He said it again now and Amy barely restrained herself from pouring her tea over his big alien head. Rory actually almost did it, being that he was the one close enough to reach.

"Boring, boring work, boring, boring Doctor," he sing-songed, tone unbelievably patronizing as he typed away on his keyboard with one hand, holding his sticky toast in the other. "Don't you wish you'd listened to me and just stayed home for one teensy, little, itty-bitty night? Well, I guess you're learning that being a Time Lord is not all fun and games and grand adventures. But a rift in time and space is not something one can just let go unattended."

Amy winced. "Please don't give us the hole in the sweater illustration again."

Apparently the Doctor was deaf to everything but the sound of his own beloved voice. "A rift in time can be compared to a tiny hole in your sweater. If you don't fix it right away-"

"The hole will just get bigger and bigger and eventually the whole sweater could unravel," supplied Rory helpfully.

Amy snickered and the Doctor glared at both of them. "It's rude to interrupt when someone is talking."

Completely ignoring his lesson in manners, Amy plopped herself inelegantly down on the seat next to him and crossed her legs, not caring in the slightest that this caused her skirt to hitch up to a degree which made the Doctor uncomfortable. "What's this about?" she asked, picking up one of the papers that were piled untidily on the floor. It was written all over in the Doctor's swirly native language which the TARDIS never saw fit to translate.

"They're coordinates. Of where I've determined the rift _isn't." _

"Why don't you write it in English?"

"Because there are no English words to describe time and space the way Time Lords see it. And that is an _extremely _simplified answer to your question."

He was still being rather short and patronizing, and she was about to tell him off for it when he reached a hand up and rubbed his eyes wearily. For the first time she noticed how exhausted he looked.

"Don't suppose you'll listen if I tell you to go to bed."

"You're not my mother."

"No, but if anyone needed someone to tell them what to do, it's you. How can you even think straight when you're so tired you can barely see?" She pursed her lips, and by the familiar set of her jaw he could tell she was winding up, ready to do battle with him. The Doctor grinned at the determined expression on her face.

"All right, Pond," he gave in, raising his palms in surrender, "but don't think this means you're going to get me on some sleeping schedule- like that feeding schedule you're always fretting about." He took one last look at the spanner, then shook his head in resignation. "I'm about ready to give up on this little mission, anyway. I've searched and searched and I just can't find anything. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes even the TARDIS is wrong."


	9. Chapter 8

Of course the yarn he'd spun about needing to repair a rift was a lie. Well, it was most likely a lie. There _might _be a rift, a breach, an open door, whatever you wanted to call it, and if so it would make his true mission simple. That would be fortunate.

Unless you felt the way the Doctor did about it- to _now _of all times be handed the way through the Void he'd once been desperate for- well, then it would be hugely, extremely, exceedingly unfortunate. The bitter irony alone would probably kill him.

What he'd said about the TARDIS being wrong at times was another lie. Unless this was the first time ever. He hoped she was wrong, mostly because of the afore-stated reason, but also because he always felt guilty when he'd lied to his friends, and he'd been doing too much of it already.

At least his admission to Amy was true. He was about ready to give up on this crazy idea. The only reason he'd put this much effort into it in the first place was because of the TARDIS' obvious insistence. But if there was indeed a first time for her to be wrong he supposed this would be it. She was asking the impossible from him; the _truly _impossible, something he'd spent anguished months trying to accomplish after he'd first lost Rose at Canary Wharf. And the best he'd been able to do then was a two-minute message which had left them both heartbroken.

He'd given his all here though, he really had, and he was hoping the TARDIS would leave him (and his dreams) alone after this. But he couldn't deny that he was very, very relieved that despite all his efforts, he hadn't found a way through to the parallel earth. He'd said goodbye to Rose a long time ago and she belonged to someone else now; what earthly good could come from their meeting again? His hearts had once been nearly wrenched in two over her and healing had been slow in coming. He was more than half afraid seeing her again might finish the job.

Besides, he and she had already had the best ending he could've realistically hoped for. She loved him and got her happily ever after with his human self. He, for his part, would never have to watch her die, never accidentally stumble upon her grave. To him, she would always be alive, young, beautiful, happy.

Happy. With another man. Yes, he wanted her to be happy, more than he cared about his own happiness by a long shot, but that didn't mean he needed to see it. See her with someone else, even if it was himself. And yet as relieved as he was to give up this idea of somehow getting through into Pete's World and lock away forever all these old feelings it had been dredging up, he couldn't deny that he was worried about Rose. She must be in trouble, and it couldn't be minor if the TARDIS was taking note. He smiled humorlessly. Even now, he couldn't say no when Rose needed help.

He wasn't surprised that the TARDIS was keeping an eye on his former companion. Rose was special, and ever since Bad Wolf the Doctor knew the TARDIS had viewed Rose as her own. And even if the sentient ship hadn't been able to keep her link with Rose, it certainly wasn't out of the question for her to have kept it with the meta-crisis. His body may have been part human, but his mind was full Time Lord. The Doctor had finally accepted that the dreams which had been so tormenting him were most likely not crafted by his own sub-conscious, but were rather an experience of his other self, telepathically projected into his mind by the TARDIS.

"_And you making me suffer through a repeat of it tonight isn't going to help anything," _he mentally warned the time-ship after he bid his goodnights to Amy and Rory. _"Amy's right, I can't think straight as it is, and if you put me through that again I'll be a complete sodding mess, probably incapable of getting us to the Earth in this universe, never mind another one."_

The first time he and Rose had ended up in the parallel world it had been an accident. The walls between universes were breaking down, partially due to Torchwood and their stupid experiments, and the TARDIS had pretty much fallen through one of these rifts. But after the events of the stolen planets and the stars going out were resolved, he had personally made certain that all the breaches were closed, repaired, and impenetrable. If he blindly attempted to force his way through now, those walls could shatter. And even if they didn't, the chances that he'd even end up in the right parallel were infinitesimal.

It hadn't always been impossible for Time Lords to travel to parallel universes. In fact, with a properly maintained and powered up vessel, the operators could enter any one of their choosing, provided they knew that universe's particular phase shift. But he didn't have _any_ of these necessary things. Since Gallifrey had gone, his TARDIS was patched up with parts he found on alien planets then altered to do the job required. Not to mention the fact that he was running completely off of scavenged fuel. The Eye of Harmony on Gallifrey had been the original power source of every TARDIS, but that too had disappeared along with his home planet. He didn't know if his old Type 40 could even survive the trip if he found a way through. He could very well end up stuck.

"_Stuck with you, that's not so bad."_

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of yet another unbidden memory. They were resurfacing far too often these days.

He'd been trying the ship's Time Spanner, which was the only thing he could think of which might possibly show him a way through. The Time Spanner allowed him to see the possible future or past of a certain time zone, but it was limited and unreliable. His hope was that if he examined the zone in which the battle of Canary Wharf had occurred, he might be able to locate the original rift and use the TARDIS to slip through, although if he did this now he would end up in Pete's World at the time just after Rose's arrival. He wasn't crazy about this idea; risking the timelines like that went against every base instinct he possessed. And even if he did get through without incident, he'd have to hide until he got the TARDIS running again, then pray that she'd be able to manage the short hop to Rose's current point in time. Needless to say, every part of this plan was beyond risky and riddled with holes.

Not that it mattered at this point. Trying to locate the original rift had proved to be like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack. No, no it wasn't. That ridiculous earth idiom didn't even come close to describing the difficulty of it, especially if one had the simplest metal detector. Or a match. No, it was like, well, like trying to find a tiny tear somewhere in the wall of the entirety of the universe. What could possibly compare to that?

The Doctor entered his bedroom, and quickly toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket and tie before climbing into bed. He gratefully closed his burning eyes, and felt sleep quickly overtaking him as his mind worked through these last few thoughts and filed them away. Yes, he decided with finality, tomorrow, after another perfunctory look, he'd be done with this, once and for all.

He tried comforting himself with the fact that he was not the only Doctor available to help Rose. She had one, right there with her, whose only job of any importance was to keep her safe. His double should be able to handle that without help. But for some reason he couldn't logically explain, he didn't feel comforted. And even though he didn't dream, his sleep that night was still restless and uneasy.

* * *

Rory barely had time to pull in a quick breath as a powerful tug to his ankle yanked him deep under the water. The cool darkness enveloped him for a moment, filling his eyes and nose, before he was able to shake off the relentless iron grip and resurface, choking and coughing as he desperately tried to heave some air into his lungs.

Seconds later the ginger head of his wife surfaced beside him, also gasping for air, but only because she was laughing so hard. He'd thought she had tired of that little trick, but evidently she'd just been biding her time.

"I'm glad one of us is having fun this morning," he said as he tilted his head to the side, trying to drain the water from his ear.

She was still laughing. "Honestly, Rory, I don't even know how you fell for it again! Didn't you notice I'd disappeared?"

"No. Guess I checked out for a few minutes. I was just thinking."

"Yeah? Must be important. What're you thinking about?"

"Oh, just that as much fun as this is, playing around on the TARDIS and all, I'd far rather be working in the hospital this morning."

"Because I've dunked you four times? What a baby."

He laughed. "No. I love being a nurse, Amy. You know that. I have a point, a purpose, when I'm doing my job. Usually that's one of the things I like about traveling with the Doctor; getting to help people. But we've been stuck here in the ship for so long that I'm feeling a bit useless."

She looked at him, fun fading from her eyes. "I know what you mean. But Rory, I'm not sorry we came with him. He needs us here. I can't put my finger on it, but I just know there's something he's not telling us. Something big."

Rory shook his wet head noncommittally, scattering droplets of water over the surface of the pool and onto his wife. "I guess you never know with him. But still, I'd be more than happy to get home soon."

Amy nodded in agreement. "You and me both. But for now I'd settle for something to eat, yeah? You wanna see what's left in the kitchen and I'll see if I can pry the Doctor away from his precious scanner for a few minutes. He's been at it for hours already today."

"Brilliant." Rory turned and swam toward the broad stone steps with Amy following him closely. They climbed out of the pool together and grabbed their towels. Rory gave his body a cursory swipe, drying himself, then wrapped the towel around his waist. Amy was still wringing water from her hair.

"Don't forget to dry your feet off well," he reminded her, as he headed out the door. "Last time I forgot, and wet glass is about as slippery as it gets. I almost killed myself."

Rory's feet were perfectly dry today, but that didn't prevent him from nearly meeting his demise for the second time in that very same hallway. Instead of slipping, though, this time he stumbled over something; something large and cold and definitely out of place in the swimming pool corridor. He lost his balance and pitched forward, gasping in pain as his knees and palms came into violent contact with the floor. After a stunned moment he gingerly crawled into a sitting position, trying out his limbs to make sure they were still functional, then looked back to see what had been left so thoughtlessly in his way.

Rory's mouth fell open in shock and he blinked a few times in rapid succession, trying to make sense of what was right before his eyes.

Lying there, in the center of the floor as though it owned it, and gleaming coolly in the light, was the largest gun Rory had ever seen in his life.


	10. Chapter 9

_"Doctor!"_

Reflexively jerking up in alarm, the Doctor cursed as he whacked his head sharply against the underside of the main column. His head throbbed and he ran cautious fingers over his scalp, checking for any major injury, and flinched when he discovered a very tender area above his right ear. Why, oh why, was Amy yelling for him like that? He was trying to determine if she had sounded frightened or simply annoyed when he heard her call his name again, louder this time, and he mentally labeled her tone as '_upset'. _He felt rather put upon as he scrabbled against the slippery glass floor, trying to extricate himself from the tight quarters in which he'd been working.

He'd just managed to get to his feet when she burst into the room, breathless and obviously worked up, wearing nothing but a bikini and a towel she'd wrapped hastily around her shoulders. Rory appeared next, hobbling a bit. He too was clad in only a pair of swim trunks and carried a balled-up towel in his hands. The Doctor wondered briefly if something terrible had happened in the swimming pool, but they both looked fine for the most part. He felt another flash of irritation.

"What's going on, Pond? Why are you shouting for me like I'm your butler or something?" he said, rubbing the sore spot on his head as he addressed the girl whose fault it was. "If you saw something in the pool you don't need to carry on so about it. They're just Chara fish; completely harmless, although I admit they may look rather frightening with the gigantic teeth and all. I had no choice but bring them on board because their natural habitat was so polluted-"

"I didn't come in here to talk to you about some stupid fish, Doctor," Amy interrupted him impatiently while Rory at the same time asked, with a bewildered look on his face, "You have _alien fish_ in your swimming pool?"

He didn't have time to respond to either of them before Amy marched over and grabbed the arm attached to the hand the Doctor was currently using to massage his scalp, then proceeded to drag him out of the room. "You need to come and see this," was all the explanation she was offering, and the unyielding grip she had on his forearm told him he was going whether he liked it or not. Rory followed wordlessly behind them as she expertly navigated the twisting corridors back to the pool area.

She stopped abruptly when they reached the appropriate hallway and finally let go of his arm. "I thought you didn't like guns," she said, as the three of them gazed upon the enormous piece of cold metal that couldn't be called by any other name.

The Doctor was completely silent, and after a few seconds Amy shifted slightly to look back at him, as he was still standing behind her. He was dazedly staring at the weapon, mouth slightly agape, and his complexion had gone absolutely ashen. She hadn't been sure what his reaction would be, had wondered if he had maybe even been the one who'd left the gun lying there, but it was easy to see that the Doctor was even more stunned than they were by its sudden appearance. She looked at Rory in confusion and he shrugged.

Suddenly the Doctor rounded on them angrily. "Where the hell did you get this?" Accusation colored his voice dark and cold and his eyes even more so as he glowered at them.

Rory recoiled a bit but Amy was not intimidated. She met his stormy gaze squarely. "Don't you dare accuse us. Rory almost broke his leg falling over that thing. It wasn't there when we went into the pool and it was when we came out. Why do you even have a gun like that on your ship when you hate them so much?"

The two of them stared one another down for a few more seconds, then the Doctor's face softened slightly. He walked over to the object in question, then squatted down beside it, running a careful finger down its length. "It's not mine," he answered finally without looking at them. "It belonged to a friend."

Amy was utterly disbelieving. "You were friends with a person who carried an enormous gun around? And you allowed them to bring it on the TARDIS?"

"Yes. They...well, she, didn't carry it all the time. Just once. It was necessary."

His voice had taken on a rather far-away quality as his traitorous mind conjured up the memory of Rose carrying that gun. Her hair had glimmered golden, her skin ethereal under the streetlights as she smiled at him; an angel on the wrecked street. That smile, so uniquely hers, it alone had the power to bring the light back into his dark existence, and seeing it there so unexpectedly- real, alive, and _only for him_- it floored him. Overpowered him. His body reacted without conscious thought and he'd run flat-out to meet her as joy, pure and intoxicating, coursed through every fiber of his being.

Completely overriding his common sense.

"But why do you still have it? Sentimental reasons?" Amy was aiming for sarcastic but the Doctor didn't notice this at all as he shook himself out of his reverie.

"Yes, I suppose." He heaved the massive weapon up from the floor by its strap and slung it over his shoulder. "But the real question is, why did the TARDIS decide to put it here of all places? I don't even remember where I stored this last."

Actually, the last time he remembered laying eyes on the gun was on one of the best and worst days of his life. He had never had so many friends travel with him before, and they were all celebrating an astounding victory together. But one by one, they all abandoned him, and by the time night fell he had returned to his ship alone, broken and distraught. He noticed the gun right off as he entered; still on the jump seat where Rose had hurriedly dumped it in panic after the Dalek had shot him. The visible reminder of her very real presence on his ship just hours earlier had been so incredibly painful that he'd immediately snatched up the weapon and stored it away out of sight, but was unable to actually get rid of the thing. It was hers.

Now the gun's heavy weight against his back had the Doctor's mind processing madly. There had to be a reason for his ship to remind him of its presence, but what could it be? Did she think if he saw a possession of Rose's he'd be motivated to keep trying to find a way through the wall? No. Ridiculous. That couldn't be it. The TARDIS had to know that could backfire.

He chuckled to himself over the unintended pun.

The Ponds frowned at each other, bemused. "You're acting even weirder than usual today," Amy remarked, and when the Doctor looked her way blankly she could tell he didn't really see her.

"Yes, weird, right," he parroted as his sagacious mind ticked onward, inventing theories and discarding them at a mad rate. "Weird day, weird gun, weird Doctor," he muttered absently. "Weird _idea." _His eyes had begun to take on a rather feverish gleam and he poked Rory in the chest with his index finger."No, not a weird idea. A _brilliant_ idea."

He pivoted suddenly and rapidly took off toward the control room with his usual ungainly stride, gun banging away against his back, and disappeared around the corner before Amy and Rory could make any sense of what had just happened. Not that there was any sense to _be_ made of it.

* * *

It just might work. There was no guarantee that they wouldn't all be killed in the attempt, but at least they'd end up in the right place. Probably. _Okay, that's not exactly comforting, _thought the Doctor, as he carefully placed the gun inside the ship's psycho-telemeter.

It had to be the reason for the gun. It was the only item he knew of on the time-ship that had originated in the alternate universe. Rose's universe. She had brought it with her when she traveled here using the Dimension Cannon. And if the TARDIS herself was suggesting the gun was valuable in this unbelievable scheme he had to have some faith that it might actually work.

The Psycho-Telemetric Circuit acted as a homing device of sorts. Its purpose was to determine the planet of origin of any given item, and then automatically navigate the TARDIS to that planet. He hadn't used it for a long time, hundreds of years probably. In fact, the last time he remembered using it he'd been in his third body, and things hadn't turned out quite as he'd expected.

But he'd never thought of using it to travel to a planet located in another dimension. Not that the desire had ever arisen before. The idea itself was almost too simple, and though the actual implementation still carried some risk he didn't think it would put either universe in jeopardy since the Telemeter worked by creating a wormhole from the Vortex directly to their destination. It certainly wasn't a perfect scheme, but it had to be a whole lot better than trying to blindly force his way through the void. More like purposeful drilling to create a small hole in a piece of glass, versus attempting to achieve the same result by pitching a rock at it.

For the first time he noticed that the Ponds hadn't followed him back to the console room, and he figured they'd gone to their room to clean up and change. He _had _abandoned them rather suddenly, and no doubt they were frustrated with him. He sat down on the captain's chair and tented his fingers under his chin, debating briefly over whether or not he should once again try and force them to go home before he attempted to follow through on this daft plan. It would be a huge fight, he knew. Amy's suspicions would be on red-alert once again after the events of the morning; he'd most likely have to try and physically drag her off the ship. He smiled in spite of the serious situation as he imagined actually attempting that. The odds were not in his favor for coming off as the winner. Regardless, he had to admit there was also a very large part of him that just plain didn't want to do this alone, selfish as that might be.

He got up and fiddled with the settings, making certain he had the telemeter configured correctly, then painstakingly adjusted the navigational levers and knobs on the center console while he waited for Rory and Amy to emerge from their bedroom. This was far too dangerous a flight for his friends to be anywhere but in the control room with him, properly secured near the heart of the TARDIS.

Though he was busy, making sure everything on his pieced-together ship was in proper working order, it felt like hours had passed before he finally heard them coming. He kept his back toward the Ponds as they entered the control room, concealing his face as his hearts began a swift beat of anxiety.

Dimly, he heard something that sounded like his own voice calmly ask them to take a seat, then explain that they were about to exit the Vortex and it might be a bumpier ride than usual. He threw in a few complicated, spacey-wacey terms, like high Mocca turbulance rating, for good measure. They didn't even question him, but he didn't expect they would. They were probably afraid he'd change his mind.

He was afraid he _wouldn't. _

Most determinedly _not_ thinking of anything beyond the immediate moment, his body moved on autopilot around the console as he put the TARDIS in flight. Lastly, he activated the special circuit that would supposedly help him cheat for the win in this game; would create the loophole through which he could avoid being penalized for breaking the very laws of time and space.

Feeling almost disembodied, as though he was just a passive spectator watching his actions from above, he slowly stretched out his hand for the Dematerialization switch- the last link in a chain which could hang them all.

He held his breath, then flipped it.


	11. Chapter 10

It was so blindingly dark inside the ship that the Doctor had no idea where the smoke was coming from. Thick, black, and choking, it was rapidly threatening to suffocate the three unlucky passengers before they had a moment to even get their bearings.

"_Extrapolator fans!" _he gasped out in a strangled voice, not even trying to lift his head from where he still lay face down on the floor. He prayed for the fans to work, being too disoriented to even think of attempting to find the door, much less help his friends to do so. But at least the TARDIS was no longer moving; their violent tumble from the Vortex having come to a jarring halt.

Eerie silence reigned and the Doctor mentally counted the seconds until he finally heard the fans click on and gradually build up speed, beginning to clear the smoke from the air. Profoundly relieved, he drew a deep, grateful breath and strained his ears to hear something, anything, from the Ponds, but he could hear nothing apart from the roar of the fans. Finding out if they were alright was definitely at the top of his priority list.

The Doctor groaned as he made his first attempt to move from his sprawled out position on the floor. He was bruised and sore and his muscles put up a dogged protest as the Doctor placed his palms under his chest and slowly began to push himself upright. Once successful on getting to hands and knees, he tried lifting his head, and immediately felt nauseous as the room began to do a quick pirouette. Still, he gradually managed to get into a sitting position, bent almost double over his lap, and shut his eyes tightly until the dizziness subsided a bit.

The smoke had mostly cleared by now and the emergency lights, by some miracle, were actually working, bathing the room in a dim yellow light. Squinting through one eye, the Doctor could make out the forms of both Amy and Rory on the opposite side of the room. Rory was uninjured enough to have crawled over his wife, and was hunched over her, stroking her cheek with his fingertips. The Doctor tried his best to call out to him, but his throat was so dry from the smoke that it resulted only in a severe fit of coughing.

However, this was enough to get Rory's attention and he lifted his head and looked over at the Doctor, then nodded to indicate that both he and his wife were okay. It was only then that the Doctor realized how very terrified he'd been that they _weren't,_ and he slumped back in relief, the last of his energy draining away. They were okay. And they'd landed. Somewhere, anyway.

* * *

"...Amy, I really think he's fine. Look, you can see he's breathing, remember, and his pulse rate really doesn't tell me anything. It just feels weird, okay? I _know_ he's got two hearts- yes, they're beating, but there's no way I would know if there was something wrong."

"Move over so I can check."

"I really don't think-"

The voices were dimly registering in the Doctor's awareness, sounding almost as if they were spoken underwater. He opened his eyes with difficulty and then suddenly came fully conscious, bolted upright and frantically took in his surroundings. He was still on the TARDIS, and Amy and Rory were sitting next to him, wearing matching worried expressions.

Was someone holding his hand? He looked down. Yes, someone was; his wrist anyway. Rory.

Rory's fingertips still clung to his wrist as the Doctor raised his arm, not saying anything but pointedly looking at his friend's fingers with an expression that was equal parts wondering and irritated.

Rory hurriedly released him. "Sorry. You were unconscious; I'm a nurse, so..." The expression on the Doctor's face wasn't improving, so Rory shut his mouth and waited for the Doctor to sarcastically inquire where he had gotten his degree in Time Lord physiology. To his surprise, the Doctor just sighed heavily, thanked him, and asked if he and Amy were alright.

"We're fine," Amy assured the Doctor from where she was sitting on the floor opposite him and Rory. "Not so sure about the TARDIS though," and they looked together to the dark and silent Time Rotor. Still, the Doctor thought, it wasn't as bad as the first time he'd crossed the Void. That time the TARDIS had been so near death the only thing that could possibly get her going again was a Gallifreyan power source- himself, or his regeneration energy, to be specific.

But this time the emergency systems were still functioning, which was a very good sign. He hoped that meant the cloaking system was up as well. If it wasn't, and they had indeed landed in the parallel earth, he would have no way of hiding his presence from his duplicate. He wanted _that_ encounter to happen only when he was good and ready for it, and on his own terms. And first on the list of his terms was a working TARDIS, so he could make an immediate escape if he wanted to.

The urge to run was already making itself known, if he was honest, and he hadn't even ventured to look outside yet.

Speaking of outside...

The Doctor surveyed his friends distrustfully. "Neither of you has left the TARDIS while I wasn't looking, have you?" he asked, a bit more sharply than he intended. "Remember you promised me you wouldn't!"

Amy gave him an injured look. "Been a bit busy, taking care of you and all. Why can't you ask before you start accusing?"

The Doctor felt guilty. "Right. Sorry. Of course you didn't."

Rory raised an eyebrow at his wife. "And the door is locked. Isn't it, dear?"

The look Amy shot her husband was so dirty the Doctor couldn't prevent his lips twitching into a smile, which caused his upcoming reprimand to lose most of its effectiveness. "That's because the emergency systems are engaged. Right now the TARDIS is unable to tell us if where we've landed is habitable, with breathable air. It's _for our protection. _The outside atmosphere could be mostly carbon monoxide, or perhaps it's so hot your skin would've burned instantly, or a myriad of other things that could kill a fragile human. Remember that next time, Pond."

She smiled cockily and saluted him. "Yes, sir. So how are you going to find out where we are, then?"

The Doctor just stared at her as he got to his feet. "I'm going to go and look. I know how to unlock the door, of course."

_Of course_. She should've known. Amy didn't bother dignifying that with a response.

Unceremoniously pulling the door open, the Doctor stepped out into the murky night air. It was cool, but not cold, and smelt vaguely of summer. And a few other, less savory things, thanks to the bins standing nearby. The TARDIS had apparently rematerialized in an alley, but the Doctor was grateful for that in spite of the smell, glad for any help he could get in avoiding discovery.

Even though it was late and the alley completely unlit, the feel of the alternate London was instantly recognizable. It was similar to the pulse and hum of the London he'd spent so much time in, but it was definitely not the same. The flavor was off, somehow. And even beyond that, there was always the queer feeling, deep in his gut, that he didn't belong here; not just because this wasn't his home universe, but more like the uncanny sensation of being an extra piece forced into a puzzle that was already complete without him.

He didn't even bother looking upwards for the telltale lights of Zeppelins floating overhead before stepping back into his sanctuary and tightly latching the door behind him.

Well, he'd done it. He'd succeeded once again in accomplishing the impossible, but this time he felt none of the thrill that usually came along with it.

His companions were awaiting him eagerly. "It must be safe, then?" questioned Amy. "Do you know where we are?"

_Safe_? he thought. Safe in what way? Safe in that they were not under imminent attack? Yes, as far as he knew. Safe in that they'd landed in a habitable environment? Absolutely.

Yet this was very likely one of the most dangerous places he'd ever been.

"Yes, it's safe." He ignored her second question.

"What're we standing around for, then? Let's go! It's been hours since we landed and I can't wait to get off this ship."

The Doctor set his prominent chin stubbornly. "No."

"Why not? You just said it was fine."

"It's nighttime here. And I can't accompany you right now. It is of utmost importance that I get the TARDIS back in working order. Besides, we've landed on one of the most boring planets imaginable. You won't like it. It won't take long for me to get the ship up and running and then I'll take you somewhere much better."

Amy's chin was set as stubbornly as the Doctor's. "If it's boring then you don't need to worry about Rory and I going out alone."

"It's not just that; though if there is trouble to be found here you're sure to end up in the middle of it. The two of you have just had a good knock about the TARDIS and before I let you out of my sight I need to be sure you're not more seriously injured than you may seem to be right now."

The Doctor's voice had taken on an almost pleading tone that Amy had rarely heard from him, and it was this that caused her to momentarily relent far more than any of the rather weak arguments he was presenting.

"All right," she agreed slowly, much to the Doctor and Rory's surprise. "I'm a bit tired right now anyway." And she _was_ quite sore, as well, but they didn't need to know that. "I'm going to bed, but if we're still here in the morning Rory and I are going exploring, right Rory?"

There would be no stopping her and both men knew it. Rory had nothing to lose and everything to gain by instant agreement to her statement. "Right. Exploring. On a nice boring planet."

The Doctor sighed. Someday, maybe, he would have a face that people would actually listen to.

* * *

"I feel almost as if we've stepped 'Through the Looking Glass,'" remarked Rory, bewildered, as he picked through a row of classic book titles. Giving a short bark of incredulous laughter, he pulled an aging hardcover from the shelf it had been stored on. "No, wait, make that '_Into the Mirror World'._" He held the book up so his wife could see it and her eyes widened.

"How fitting that they should get that title wrong too!" Amy laughed. "But that's perfect, Rory. This place may not be quite as strange as _Wonderland, _but it does have that sort of feel, doesn't it? Maybe we shouldn't get anything to eat here. We might end up three inches tall." They grinned at each other.

"Maybe, but it's worth the risk," said Rory. "It's either eat out here, or return to the TARDIS, and I have a feeling that if we go back the Doctor won't let us leave again. And I, for one, am definitely not tired of exploring this city. I know we've seen far stranger, more alien things, but there's just something fun about the fact that this is an alien planet on which they've tried to recreate _our London. _Yeah, they've gotten a few things wrong but all in all it's so accurate that a person couldn't tell the difference if they didn't pay attention."

"As long as they don't look up, anyway," smirked Amy as she crouched down to look at the books on a lower shelf.

Rory grimaced. "Oh yeah, I forgot about all those Zeppelins. I wonder how they got that part so wrong?"

"Maybe they didn't get it wrong. This is an alien planet after all; maybe the atmosphere's different, or maybe they never figured out the technology involved in building airplanes. Remind me to ask the Doctor when we get back. He probably knows; or if he doesn't he'll make up something believable."

"Or it's his fault," Rory added.

His wife nodded vigorously in agreement as they continued browsing in the charming little used-book store. It was nearing noontime and the sun was high in a soft blue sky that looked remarkably like the sky on their own home planet. Aside from being littered with fat, floating Zeppelins, anyway.

It had only been a few short hours since they'd finally, finally been allowed to leave the TARDIS. The Doctor had put up surprisingly little resistance when they'd appeared in the Control Room that morning, dressed for the day and carrying coats, obviously ready to do some exploring. He simply informed them that they could leave the jackets behind, since it appeared to be summer on this planet, which was called, of all extraordinary things, the _United Kingdom, _and that the city they had crash-landed in was called _London. _Amy and Rory had gaped at him in astonishment as he, somewhat reluctantly it seemed, gave them a short history of the planet, in which figured a humanoid race who had visited Earth and was so enthralled with Britain that they recreated it back home.

But it was still an alien planet, how like Earth could it possibly be? So on stepping out of the time-ship and exiting the alley the Ponds had not been prepared for this place to be such a _perfect replica _of the city near their native heath. Yet not.

"Oh, _Pride and Prejudice _is still called _'First Impressions' _here!" squealed Amy, hugging the book to herself. "I love it! This place is so _not_ boring!" She dug through her pocket and came up with a handful of local currency, which she had obtained as spoils through a hard-fought battle with the Doctor.

He'd claimed that he had no money for them to spend here, which Amy directly sniffed out as a sort of last-ditch effort to prevent them from leaving, or at least keep them from being out for long. Without even blinking Amy then indicated he should either come with them and sonic a local cash-point or else she'd take his sonic away from him and do it herself. She was dead serious and the Doctor knew it, so he contented himself with glaring at her before petulantly shoving his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket to pull out the psychic paper. After handing it over begrudgingly, he told her a cash-machine would scan it just fine and that she could keep her little threats to herself, thank you very much.

Amy and Rory had obtained the needed funds without incident and now she paid for her book with a few of the strange purplish bills. After the very human-looking clerk handed the book back in a sunny yellow bag, Amy searched out her husband, shortly thereafter finding him peering at titles in a row of medical literature.

"Come along, Tweedledum," she said, kissing his thin cheek fondly before grabbing him by the hand. "Let's find out what the people of this planet think London cuisine is like. But we should probably avoid the mushrooms."

* * *

As the Ponds headed out to continue their giddy, lighthearted explorations, they hadn't a care in the world.

They didn't know that the same could _not_ be said of the friend they'd left behind.

The one who was now scrambling to come up with some sort of a plan- not an easy task with no working resources, save his sonic screwdriver and his uneasy, muddled mind.

The one who, if truthful, found this place to be far more _terrifying_ than _boring_.

The one who was nearly as desperate to have this whole thing over with as he was to somehow keep his most painful secret just that- a secret.

_He didn't know how he was going to pull it all off._

* * *

But the part none of them knew about was that their arrival hadn't gone unnoticed.

Just a few short miles away, _someone_ had immediately detected it, and had instantly panicked, even though he was normally one of the most self-assured of creatures.

And by this time, dread had also seized his recently singular heart, because, despite many hours of pacing and theorizing, he could just not figure out how _anything _might have broken through the Void last night, gaining such unlawful entry into the universe he now called his home.

* * *

I just want to say **thank you** to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed on this story! I love hearing from you and it is SO encouraging!

And now, please buckle your seat belts and place your trays in their upright and locked positions. We may be experiencing some turbulence. :)

Up next: A view from the OTHER side...


	12. Chapter 11

**While the Ponds play and the Doctor frets, we'll take this opportunity to check out the flip side. :)**

* * *

As she stretched and leaned back in her cushy desk chair, Rose Tyler felt not the smallest trace of guilt as she abandoned every pretense of doing paperwork. She swiveled around to take in the still unfamiliar sights outside the enormous plate-glass window, and thought idly to herself that this- the view- was the only thing she truly enjoyed about her new office at Torchwood. It really was a remarkably gorgeous view, all river and treetops and glassy skyscrapers, from so high up that she couldn't see anything of the streets below and the people on them without getting up from her comfy seat. Pity that the window was _behind_ her desk.

She'd made an attempt to correct this glaring design flaw by trying to rearrange the furniture a few days earlier when she'd first moved in here, but no matter how hard she tried, the gigantic metal monster of a desk had stubbornly refused to budge even an inch from where it had been placed on the carpet. Rose, sweaty and frustrated, eventually gave it up as a lost cause, mentally labelling as an idiot the person who had set up the office this way in the first place- well, either an idiot or a workaholic who didn't want to be distracted. She steadfastly ignored the fact that she herself also deserved some sort of label for being too stubborn to ask for help in fixing the problem.

So the desk stayed where it was, stupidly placed in the room so that all Rose could see when she looked up from her computer were boring white walls interrupted only by two metal filing cabinets, and the door between them which didn't even have a window in it.

Fortunately, Rose was something of an expert on making the most of less than ideal situations. Once facing the window, she kicked off her tall spiky heels and pressed her toes comfortably against the sun-heated glass, sinking even lower in the chair. It was early afternoon, and the sun shone in, giving Rose really no choice but to sleepily close her eyes against its brightness and warmth.

Utterly content and completely relaxed, she was just beginning to drift off when the door of her office was hit by something akin to a small explosion, causing it to fly open and _CLANG! _violently against one of the filing cabinets. Gasping in alarm (which directly became indignation), poor Rose flew up from her chair, spinning round to see just who had so rudely interrupted her intended catnap.

Rose was certain she had put on her most intimidating glare when she met the wild eyes of her friend and fellow Torchwood agent, the spiky-haired Jake Simmonds, but he didn't notice her anger as he was apparently in the middle of a rage of his own.

"Where is he?" he demanded, red faced, his eyes flashing as they darted about to speedily search the room. Not seeing him, whoever 'he' was, Jake marched over and looked behind her desk, then jerked the closet door open without even asking permission as Rose spluttered in confusion. Finding it empty save for the boxes she hadn't yet bothered unpacking, he kicked the closet door shut with far more force than necessary and turned back to Rose, scowling fiercely. Not finding who he was looking for had not helped Jake's mood any.

"I tell you Rose, if that husband of yours keeps this up Torchwood isn't going to be one of his safe-houses anymore, because I'm going to kill him myself," he informed her heatedly.

She must've been sleepy to not have known immediately that the Doctor was involved in whatever had Jake so thoroughly worked up. Rose quirked her mouth into half a smile.

"Not funny, Jake. Honestly, though, what'd he do now? I haven't seen him at all since we came in." It had been before seven, since the Doctor for some reason had been chomping at the bit to get to work that morning. More than six hours ago, she thought to herself. He could do a lot of damage, left alone for that amount of time. She should have checked up on him before now.

Jake gestured impatiently. "Can't you hear it?"

Rose frowned. Of course she could, now that she was paying attention. The door to her office hadn't relatched properly after Jake's abrupt entrance so there was really nothing to muffle the sound of the alarms shrilly sounding up and down the corridor. A security breach; and it must a fairly significant one for the alarms to be going off even all the way up on this floor. Adding to the cacophony was the thundering of booted feet running toward the stairwells and lifts; Torchwood agents setting up guard against any human or alien invader who might be trying to reach this level of the building where all the most important people had their offices.

"Maybe it really is a security breach," she said calmly. "Why are you assuming it the Doctor caused it?"

Jake scoffed. "Are you serious? Of course it was him. He's bored- you know what he's been like! I wouldn't be surprised if he did this on purpose, just to have a little excitement in his day. And now the whole flippin' building's in lockdown and who has to go and sort this mess? Me!"

"I'm sorry for you, but I don't think he'd do something like this just for fun."

Jake gave Rose a long look, entirely unconvinced. "Okay, so let's say it was an accident then. It was still him. He's up to something; I have no doubt. Did you know he was down on level one this morning, Rose? I saw him with my own eyes. I-"

At the words 'level one' Rose bit her lip and tuned Jake out. Level one was the sub-basement, sometimes known as the Dungeon, where the prisons were; where the most dangerous aliens were kept until Torchwood was able to figure out what to do with them. The Doctor _hated _level one. He barely tolerated its existence even as a necessary evil. Normally he avoided the place at all costs, not just because he disapproved of it, but for many other more serious reasons. Rose alone was aware of every single one of those reasons and now she began to be a little bit scared. Nothing short of 'very, very, bad' would be able to induce him to go down there.

"...but the alarm was initially set off on level four, which really tells me it was him. He loves level four. Always says he's there to help sort through the backlog of alien artifacts, but of course way more stuff goes missing than ever gets tagged and put away."

"But he has security clearance for level four, Jake. It's on his ID card."

Jake stared at Rose as if she'd grown two heads all of a sudden. "Of course he does; about the only person who has higher security clearance than he does is your dad! The problem is that the git never uses his card to scan in to an area anymore. Always uses that stupid bloody screwdriver to bypass the system. Who knows why?"

Jake thought he knew and began pacing the room, ticking off his fingers. "He probably gets a kick out of fooling the system for one thing, second, I know he hates being tracked. The guys in security up on nine are always complaining about him shutting their cameras down if he has to stand near one for more than five seconds."

Rose didn't reply as she picked up her mobile from the desk and pushed auto-dial. Not one syllable of what Jake had just said was news to her. The Doctor had been using his sonic screwdriver to bypass security from the day he'd started working at Torchwood, although Rose had to admit he'd been much more selective and discreet about it in the past. But compared with everything that had turned their lives so completely upside down as of late, his increased lack of following company protocol hardly seemed worth fussing about.

_"Hello! You've reached Doctor Smith. Please lea"- _Rose ended the call without bothering to listen to the rest of the tinny greeting (which she could have recited in her sleep). The Doctor never checked his voicemail. He also rarely answered his phone, so Rose wasn't too worried when he didn't pick up now. He _had_ been a lot better about keeping it on his person lately but there was nothing she could do about the fact that he just plain didn't hear it when something else had absorbed his attention. She shot off a quick text message- _"please call me ASAP love"_ -and marveled at how a man whose entire world had recently been narrowed down to a total of two buildings was still so difficult to keep track of.

While Rose was attempting to ring the Doctor, Jake had given her office door a shove so that the latch clicked tightly, significantly dulling the sound of the uproar taking place in the corridor. The relative quiet calmed him down a bit and he meandered over to her desk, absently picking up the one personal item she had in the space- a framed photo of herself and the Doctor, dressed up and smiling, taken at the last Vitex gala.

It was just a simple snap of their lives from back when everything had been normal. Her mum loved to immortalize every family event with her camera and Rose had many, many pictures of the two of them taken over the course of the few years they had been together here. But it was this photo in particular that helped keep her going lately, helped her remember that their present circumstances- her unwanted new office, his frustration, their shared lack of freedom- were temporary. They'd reached a new level of understanding the night it was taken, and every time Rose looked at the photo, seeing the Doctor's eyes nearly free of guilt and her own smile lacking every trace of bitterness, she was firmly determined that they would have that life back again.

Jake turned the light wood frame over in his hands, lightly rubbing his thumb back and forth across its edge as he perched on the top of Rose's desk, watching her with a hesitant expression in his hazel eyes.

"Rose."

"Yes, Jake?"

He was silent for a few seconds as he turned away from her slightly to set the picture frame back on her desk, then he hopped down and headed toward the door.

"Never mind," he said, waving a hand in dismissal. "It's stupid. I better set about getting things back to normal around here." He was already turning the knob but Rose stepped quickly and stopped him with a hand on his upper arm.

"Just say it."

"I said it was stupid."

"Please."

Jake blew out a breath. "Is there any chance he could have taken off again?" He spoke rapidly; if he was being forced to say this then he wasn't going to chance being interrupted. "Thing is, I left notice for security to alert me to his whereabouts as soon as anybody saw him and I haven't heard anything yet. Then you couldn't get him on the phone just now and I thought that maybe-"

"He's here."

"Are you certain? Because if we need to get a team together to go after him-"

"I'm sure, Jake. You can go and do what you need to do. I'll find the Doctor. I might even let you know where he is if you promise to be nice to him."

Rose's voice had taken on a decided edge and Jake wisely dropped the discussion, much as he thought she was deluding herself. The only thing predictable about the Doctor's behavior lately was his unpredictability, and although Jake knew he had promised his wife he wouldn't take off again without telling her, he had broken that very same promise before when he thought he had good enough reason to do. The repercussions of _that _incident had been severe, in more ways than one, and it certainly wasn't something Jake wanted to see repeated any time soon. Or ever. But hey, if Rose had faith in the Doctor, who was he to argue?

"Be _nice_ to him? Asking a bit much, aren't ya?" Jake grinned at her, but it disappeared from his face in a flash as he opened the door. The bedlam hadn't abated in the slightest. Wryly, he looked back at Rose one more time.

"Yeah, maybe you better not tell me when you find him."

* * *

There had never been many people who knew the Doctor well, and here in his new life on an alternate version of Earth the current list was short indeed. Jake Simmonds, Pete Tyler, Jackie. Maybe little Tony someday. He did truly like a number of his co-workers, but he knew many (though unaware of his alien origins) still stood in some awe of him, even though he had tried his level best to be friendly with them. This bothered him more than he would admit; he had always liked people, and even though his ego may have enjoyed a bit of awe, he far preferred casual, comfortable interactions with others.

Unfortunately, his reputation had preceded him at Torchwood, and from the day he first walked through its doors with Rose he had been celebrated as savior of the universe, and regarded by most of his colleagues as some kind of pre-eminent being. It had grown tiresome quickly but there was nothing he could do about it, aside from RetCon-ing the whole lot so they would forget who he was entirely. Too drastic. But at least they didn't salute him.

His having so few real friends was especially ironic when considering how nearly everyone on the planet knew his name. (Well, his often assumed and more recently, legal name, Dr. John Smith.) He wasn't at all happy about this, but it was hard to remain invisible once one becomes a tabloid favorite.

Of course, the Doctor was no stranger to having experienced varying levels of fame throughout his long life, but this was very, very different. He couldn't just take off in the TARDIS and escape it, for one thing. And unlike before, it now felt completely unwarranted. This world was fascinated by him, but not because he was their universe's first and only (mostly) alien time traveler, not because he was phenomenally clever, nor even because he'd saved many lives.

It was because he was considered to be the luckiest man in Great Britain. He couldn't argue with that, of course, though he would never comprehend why it had commanded so many headlines.

_"Vitex Heiress Dating Mystery Man!" _

_"Rose Tyler Weds in Secret Ceremony After Whirlwind 3-Month Romance!" _

Three years later they were still a subject of much interest and adoration, which frustrated the Doctor to no end. He was the Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds, had more than once shocked even the most hardened of Torchwood's agents with his ability to take on and conquer (sometimes single-handedly) the most vicious of alien threats- but when it came to preventing odd, slightly stupid humans from coming out of nowhere to take his or Rose's picture, he'd proven completely incompetent.

He'd been trying to get used to, or at least ignore, this strange (and uniquely human) phenomenon, but had finally reached his limit when the _Inquisitor _ran a photo of him on its cover- taken as he was coming out of the supermarket- with some inane caption about how amazing it was that he'd done the shopping. In all his years of traveling the universe he'd seen many lower lifeforms with inexplicable habits and asinine customs, but _this_- this took the cake, and he finally gave in to what Jackie had been nagging about for months and began to hire out some of their errands.

Rose, who had always been human and therefore possessed a better understanding of these things, realized that part of the craziness could be blamed on the simple fact that they were far more private than most celebrities, and therefore far more mysterious and fascinating. The latest rumor swirling about in the media had their long absence from the public eye being due to a secret pregnancy; a rumor which annoyed Jackie Tyler to no end. But only because it _wasn't _true.

The list of people who knew him well would be much longer, of course, if he added to it all the friends he'd had in the past. But no matter who he added, there was really only one person in two universes he could think of who _truly _knew him, complexities and darkness and madness and all, and still loved him anyway. Only one person he trusted, fully and completely. His Rose. She had made him better, and he loved her more than he had thought he was capable of loving anyone. And now, he was determined to spend the one life he had left making sure she was safe, sure she was happy.

For her part, Rose had made it abundantly clear, long before their life together here had begun, that all she had ever wanted was for her Doctor to be safe. Even though he could see the importance of this now more than he ever had before, it was still difficult for him to place such a high value on his own life. However, he _did_ place a very high value on Rose's happiness, so he'd solemnly promised her that he would do his best in this regard.

It was a promise that had been ridiculously hard to keep lately.

And as of last night, it had just gotten a little bit harder. The Doctor stared moodily through his specs at the heavy, clunky device which was still sitting on the table he had rolled it into his lab on, trying to determine if it was a loose wire or maybe just an incorrect calibration which was causing the thing to malfunction. He pulled the right side panel open for the second time and scanned the connections with the sonic, just to be sure he hadn't missed something. Everything seemed to be in order and he impatiently flipped the power switch back and forth to see if the stubborn thing would turn on.

It didn't.

He cursed under his breath and was seriously considering giving it a good hard kick when the numerous overhead lights in his lab flashed on all at once, creating a most effective distraction. He automatically put a hand over his eyes to shield them from the unexpected brightness and whirled around, peering painfully through a crack between his fingers to try and make out just who exactly was trying to blind him.

Slight build, blonde hair. His wife. Smiling genuinely for the first time in hours, he lowered his hand, still squinting mightily, and once it occurred to Rose that he was in pain she flipped the lights off with hasty fingers. The room was again swamped in a hazy darkness, the only illumination coming from one small window and a lamp on the Doctor's desk.

"Headache again today?" she questioned as she approached him, concern shadowing her pretty face.

"Yeah, but not too bad. You know I can see just fine without all those lights on anyway. Superior eyesight, me," he said loftily, wagging his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, is that right?" Her tone was unreadable as she came closer and toyed with his swirly blue tie for a moment, tugging on it to draw him closer as she tilted her face up to his. There was a mischievous sparkle in her dark brown eyes that commanded his full attention.

"Then tell me, please, oh _superior_ one," she continued, her hand now becoming the object of his fascination as she slowly ran it up his chest, "exactly..."

the hand continued its delightful journey

"why..."

Here she paused all movement, and the Doctor realized too late that the glint in her eye had resembled that of a cat eyeing its prey.

"..._youwearthese!"_

This last came out in a breathless rush as the hand she was so pleasantly trailing up his shirtfront turned on him and snatched the glasses off his face in a lightning-fast maneuver. Before the Doctor could register this shocking move she'd already darted halfway across the room, prize in hand. Rose doubled over in laughter when she looked back and saw him gaping at her with an expression of mock outrage.

His own gaze turned predatory. "Oh, Rose Tyler, I think you _know_ exactly why."

He advanced on her and she twirled the glasses by one stem, taunting him, then ducked to hide behind his whiteboard, still giggling furiously. He smirked as he evaluated his attack options. Rapidly deciding on 'direct', he dashed around the back of the board as fast as he could, catching hold of his squealing wife from behind as she tried to crawl under it to escape him.

Grabbing her tightly around the waist and pulling her close, he breathed in her ear threateningly. "Tell me why I wear them."

"No!"

He wiggled his fingers against her rib cage and she shrieked. _"Say it,_ or I unleash my superior Time Lord tickling skills upon you!"

She thrashed around, trying and failing to free herself from his grasp. As he hauled her around so that she was facing him she took advantage, snaking a hand under his suit jacket to try and tickle him first, but he grabbed her wrist and trapped it with fingers of steel. "None of that, miss. Last chance!" They were both hysterical with laughter as the Doctor slowly dug the fingertips of his free hand into her ribs again, preparing to make good on his threat.

"Alright, alright," she gasped, giving in. "I know why!"

"Because you think they look..." he prompted, lips quirked as he yanked her up against him, his mouth a breath away from hers. They both stopped laughing when she met his eyes, ready to give him the answer he so dearly loved hearing.

_"Sexy."_

At that he closed the tiny distance between them and kissed her in whole-hearted approval of her answer, and Rose felt as if she won their little game after all.

After a few seconds Rose broke the kiss, leaning back slightly, but content to remain in his arms. "Jake's looking for you," she said, looking up at him.

He was watching her lips intently but her words didn't register at all. "Mmm?"

"Doctor."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know why?" She ducked her head, forcing him to make eye contact.

He sighed. "What am I supposed to know?"

"Why Jake is looking for you. And why he's mad."

"No idea. When isn't Jake mad?" He bent and attempted to kiss her again, but Rose evaded him and his lips landed on her cheek instead. He made a small sound of indignant protest.

She laughed softly while he pulled back and stared at her in bewilderment. "You really don't know, do you?"

"No, I really don't. I don't know why you are so insistent we discuss the varying, or in this case, mostly unvarying, moods of Jake Simmonds, who is not here in this lab, mind you, exposing us to said bad mood, when we could be _discussing _something far more interesting."

The Doctor arched an eyebrow at her suggestively, pulling her closer. Rose shook her head in exasperation, but she could never help smiling at him when he got like this.

"Try and think. Please."

Blowing out a breath, the Doctor ran a hand through his already wild hair and took a small step back from his wife. "Alright, I give up. Jake is upset about something, which he obviously shared with you, and the fact that he shared it with you and you are now down here sharing it with me tells me that it is somehow my fault. What I do not understand is why he sent you to tell me instead of just coming himself."

He sniffed long-sufferingly and peered down at his wife. "Not that I wish for Jake to be here right now instead of you, of course. Would've been even _less_ snogging going on."

Rose laughed and rolled her eyes at his one-track mind. "He _was _trying to find you. He thought you'd be in my office. In the closet, apparently." Rose stifled a laugh at the Doctor's gobsmacked expression.

"Are you serious? Why would I be in there?"

"He was convinced you were hiding from him. But I knew better, yeah? Came straight here." She smiled knowingly at him, tongue touching her teeth, while the Doctor stood there staring at her in complete bafflement.

Knowing the Doctor as well as she did, Rose had had absolutely no trouble in finding him straightaway. Not that Jake was wrong in his belief that the Doctor was the culprit in the security fiasco; in fact Rose herself had been fairly certain her husband _was _at fault. Where Jake had gone wrong was that he had grossly over-estimated the amount of guilt he thought the Doctor would be feeling and therefore went searching for a man who would be hiding away from his wrongdoing. Rose, on the other hand, figured that her single-minded alien had obtained whatever it was he had desired from the vault, so she went searching for a man who had nothing on his conscience- but _was_ in possession of a new toy which would need examination and probably some jiggery-pokery. Where else would such a man be but in his lab?

Her suspicions had been confirmed when she had walked into that laboratory a few minutes ago and sure enough- there he was, prodding and sonicking away on his latest acquisition. She gestured toward it now with an outstretched hand; a big metal boxlike structure, looking rather like an old tube-television. But it was most definitely not a television. Unless it was an alien one.

"So, what're you working on over there? You didn't by any chance get it out of one of the vaults on level four, did you?"

Understanding immediately washed across his face, mixed with the slightest amount of guilt. "Yeah. I set off the alarm, didn't I? Forgot about that. I was, wellll, quite anxious to get that thing down here." He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. "I suppose Jake would be rather upset about that."

"Said he was going to kill you."

The Doctor liked that. He grinned widely. "Well, that would be fitting, wouldn't it? Nearly one thousand years worth of people trying to kill me only to be done in by a rather small, over-gelled human." He rubbed his left eye with one finger, smile fading a bit. "Well, I'll apologize to him. It was entirely accidental, you know. I was in a hurry and got a bit careless with the sonic."

"You do have a card on you, remember, that actually _allows _you to take whatever you want out of the vaults without the risk of setting off an alarm." Rose said this in jest, expecting him to reply with, '_yeah, but where's the fun in that?' _She would agree with him and they'd laugh together and then maybe he'd kiss her again.

She was not expecting to see his face darken as he glanced back over at his ill-gotten device, or the deadly seriousness of his eyes as he turned back to her.

"About that. We need to talk."

* * *

**Yep, double-long chapter for you today! I was going to divide it in two, but decided I would be nice instead. You're welcome. :) Hope you liked it! Let me know; and I'd also love to know what you hope will happen! **


	13. Chapter 12

_"About that. We need to talk."_

* * *

The Doctor used to lie. Quite often, and for many reasons. Sometimes he still did, but not to Rose. Never to Rose. Not anymore, after one of his lies had nearly gotten him killed and almost destroyed their relationship. Whatever happened now, they were in it together. She had to know about this.

He took Rose's hand and led her over to the table where the large device was resting, still silent and dark. She looked up at him wonderingly.

"Do you know what this thing is?"

She scrunched her face up, thinking hard. "Not particularly. It must be dangerous, yeah, especially if it was stored in a vault?"

"Well, it is dangerous, but not to us. Not in the way you're thinking anyway. But I can't get it working, Rose, and I _need _it to work. You have no idea."

"You're scaring me."

He placed his palm on her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. "I'm sorry. But I'm a bit scared myself at the moment." He swallowed, then put his hand into his jacket pocket, reaching impossibly deep, and pulled out a small object- a metal tube-shaped thing with a strip of lights all down one of its sides. All of the lights were flashing and it was vibrating slightly. Rose felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Do you remember this?"

How could she forget? He'd shown it to her for the first time only a few weeks ago, on the night when they'd decided no more secrets. Had explained to her precisely what it was for, that he'd built it almost immediately after his arrival in this universe, and the terrifying reason why he kept it in his pocket at all times.

"It's your Void breach detector," she responded finally, looking at him with fear in her eyes. "Why is it flashing?"

She asked the question, but she already knew why.

He answered her anyway. "Because something has come. From out of the Void."

* * *

Halfway across town, another Time Lord was having similar frustrations with a very different piece of machinery. Well, the TARDIS was actually far from being a piece of machinery, and normally anyone she heard calling her that would get a zap from the next surface they touched.

But the Doctor hadn't been zapped, or tripped, or had his seat taken out from under him and he'd said it at least fifteen times in the last hour, usually preceded by the word _bloody_ (or something even ruder).

This had him very worried indeed.

Down in Power Room 4, he turned on the last of the emergency quantum field generators and this time was rewarded by a faint humming sound. Immediately off and running through the dark corridors back to the console room, he whooped for joy when he saw that the Time Rotor, though still unmoving, was now dimly lit and so was the rest of the console.

He knew that recovery time was likely more responsible for this improvement rather than anything he'd actually done, but he couldn't have cared less as he plopped down on the chair in front of the monitor and flipped the switch. The screen glowed a dull blue for a few seconds and he impatiently smacked the side of it, grinning widely when it flashed and then showed a perfect view of the alley outside. It was working!

The signal wasn't strong enough for him to do any kind of extended search with it yet, but it would be. He could wait.

Soon the ship would also have enough power for him to call Amy. Or if need be, scan for her and Rory's unique energy signature, since they were now covered in Void stuff. He felt a smidgen of guilt at the thought, especially since it reminded him of the several other people on this planet who were also covered in the stuff, thanks to him. He shook it off. It wouldn't hurt them, not unless he had to open another gaping hole into the Void, and he didn't see that happening anytime soon. It did hinder his scanning capabilities for the time being- he didn't really want to use the method to try and find Amy and end up with one Jackie Tyler on his hands. Anyway, he wasn't too worried about the Ponds, not really, not yet, since it was still early afternoon.

Still, he wouldn't mind being reassured that they were alright.

He had plenty of other things to worry about without worrying about the Ponds too.

Like the prospect of having to search out and actually speak with his other self. That was the least he was going to have to do, now that he was here. Find him, drag him back to the TARDIS, give him whatever he needed to solve their problem, swear him to secrecy, then hightail it back to his own universe immediately thereafter. Preferably without Rose ever even hearing about his presence or involvement.

At least his double had a biological signature like none other. It would make it easy to track him down. There was absolutely no way he was going anywhere near Torchwood, or the Tyler estate, for that matter. He smiled as he imagined himself snatching his unwitting meta-crisis off the street, like a Mob boss tracking a snitch, shoving him into backseat of a car and hauling him off for _questioning._ He had a feeling that was how the other Doctor was going to see the whole thing anyway, no matter how he handled it.

In fact, if he were him, (and he used to be, so he should know) this whole thing would be his worst nightmare.

Pushing aside such ideas for the time being, the Doctor turned his attention back to the monitor and noticed there was now enough power to tap into the internet. He should really do some investigating, he thought, and at least do a search on Rose's name to try and see if he could gain a bit more insight into what he might be dealing with. Her family was well-known here, thanks to Pete, and perhaps whatever was going on had even made the news.

He started typing her name but then froze as a thought struck him. Because not even the TARDIS would filter out the pertinent articles about her from the _personal _ones, and he just wasn't ready to deal with that yet. It was hard enough getting used to the idea of being within reach of her for the first time in more years than he cared to think about, yet knowing she was just as off-limits as she'd always been.

_Probably._

Balling his fists tightly, he shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the unbidden thought, but it had set up camp and utterly refused to be budged. Oh, he knew better than to let himself hope, he was an absolute _idiot, _but it was there anyway. A tiny hot spark which, if he was honest, had appeared long before he'd found the gun, and had grown exponentially since he'd landed here. A stubborn, burning, persistent little _what if. _

Once he'd finally recognized and accepted that the TARDIS wanted him to return to this universe, he'd focused all his thought and effort onto just that- the cold, concrete mechanics of _getting _here. He'd been telling himself not to dwell on what would happen next, not to think about _what if _he actually succeeded, or else he'd never be able to make himself carry it out.

With sudden but perfect clarity he realized that he'd been lying to himself all along. That '_what if' _would never have kept him from coming here, despite its likelihood of bringing nothing but disappointment and heartbreak. Truth was, the pinprick of hope contained in those two little words had meant that nothing could have _stopped _him.

Now he was here. In Rose's universe.

And she needed him, apparently.

He wasn't sure if he should be terrified or exhilarated by that thought.

* * *

It was that time of day, early afternoon, when time is slow and the very air feels thick and drowsy. Amy was getting tired. And maybe just the teensiest bit bored. After a lunch which was completely uneventful (except for Amy's experience with a popular local drink she'd tried, called _Vitex, _which ended up being a flavorless horrid greenish concoction_) _ they'd strolled until finding themselves in the midst of London's West End. Of course there was more than enough to see and do, with it being the theatre district, but all in all it was very similar as the same part of the city in their London and Amy and Rory had been many times. It just wasn't at all alienish or even very weird.

So she may admit to being a bit tired and bored, but again, there was good reason for that. She was absolutely _not _cranky.

Rory was sorry he'd suggested it.

"This London is definitely dirtier than ours, and that's saying something. I mean, seriously, why would someone just throw this on the ground when there are rubbish bins everywhere?" she complained, kicking at a fast food bag that a sudden gust of wind had sent directly across their path. Rory watched it as it skittered a few feet away and caught against the wall of the brick building to their right, looking entirely at home with the various wrappers and papers and odd soda can which had also taken up residence there.

"Why don't you pick it up, then? You know, do your part." Rory was tired too.

She looked him in disbelief. "This isn't even our planet, Rory!" as if that explained everything. "How are the people here going to learn to clean up after themselves if a bunch of alien strangers are always coming in and doing it for them?"

Rory didn't figure that was likely much of a problem but thought he'd better start keeping his comments to himself.

"And I wonder what all these signs about a midnight curfew are all about? Think the crime is that bad or is it an oppressive government trying to control everyone's lives? I mean, what if later on we decide we want to go to-" she craned her neck around, searching for an example, "that club over there, the _Cyber Club_," waving a blue-polished fingertip toward an exceedingly seedy-looking place across the street, complete with frightening-looking men lurking about the entrance. "Will we be arrested if we simply lose track of time and come out a bit too late? Tell me that's not oppression!"

"You do realize that place looks more dangerous than some of the alien prisons we've been in, right?"

She huffed an irritated breath in Rory's general direction. "That's not the point, moron! Like I said, it's oppression! If the Doctor was here he'd want to do something about it!"

Again, Rory seriously doubted the validity of that statement but recognized a way to change the subject when he saw one. "Speaking of, why do you think he was so keen on staying in the TARDIS instead of coming with us today? He seemed worried enough last night about us going out alone, but this morning we were barely out the door before he practically slammed it shut behind us. You think he's still hiding something?"

Amy didn't answer, simply shrugging as they continued walking, but she did tighten her grip on Rory's hand. He glanced down at her face and saw that it was drawn and pensive, all the fire having left her. Rory frowned at this and was seriously considering bringing up the alleged governmental oppression again when a large signboard, done up rather plainly in muted blacks and grays, unexpectedly caught his eye.

It was just one of those theatre/music venue placards, sitting unobtrusively on the side of the pavement, and being in the West End they'd passed several of them already without paying much attention. However, Rory was beyond glad this one had caught his eye.

"You're kidding me!" he exclaimed, pulling on Amy's hand as he came to an abrupt halt. "Can this possibly be right?"

She blinked confusedly as she looked down to where he was pointing. Then gasped, wide eyed, as she beheld a very familiar face.

* * *

Rose watched in silence as her Doctor carefully clamped thick black wires from what looked like a car battery to the metal knobs on the back side of the device. A bio-scanner, he'd said it was. From a Kratan airship. Not as sophisticated as the one in the TARDIS by far, couldn't scan an entire planet in minutes like that one could. But plenty good enough for what he needed it to do.

Her eyes had long since grown used to the darkness in the lab, but as she stood there Rose felt a growing desire to run across the room and flip every single one of the lights on. As though she was a little child with the firm belief that the brightness of a few lights was all that was necessary to protect her from the monsters. She shivered and stepped closer to her husband, close as she could get without actually touching him, and drew comfort from his proximity and warmth and the air of confidence he always exuded in even the most dire of situations. And then stepped away, feeling silly and more than a little angry with herself. She needed to get a grip!

"There we are!" the Doctor said, finishing his task and stepping back, seemingly unaware of Rose's inner turmoil. Good. "Maybe all it needs is a good charging up. This thing looks like it's quite old actually, a few decades at least, probably been a while since it's been used," he said. His voice was casual but Rose caught him watching her worriedly from the corner of his eye. Maybe not so unaware then. She leaned against his arm and smiled up at him.

"I'm okay. I'll be better when you get that thing working." She backed up to the battered sofa residing against the wall behind them and sat on it heavily, snuggling under the Doctor's arm when he joined her seconds later. "So why was it hiding away in a vault if it isn't dangerous? S'only a bio-scanner. Probably would've been useful before now."

The Doctor sighed, and Rose knew he'd been hoping she wouldn't ask about that.

"Yeah, a bit _too _useful, I'm afraid," he said slowly. "Rose, you know how I feel about Torchwood, and I agree that here it has been a better organization than the one in our old universe. But you also know that I feel it has been a bit heavy-handed at times in the way it has treated peaceful travelers who were simply looking for a safe place to live. If Torchwood knew that they possessed a piece of equipment that could instantly give them the real-time location of every sentient being not native to this planet-"

"They'd track them all down and process them," she concluded softly. He looked at her fully then and she met his surprised brown eyes. "It's policy. But you just want them to be left in peace. I know you think I'd take Torchwood's side on that, but I don't. I know what it's like, well as you do, to _be _an alien not on my native planet. And I see it your way. M'glad you hid it."

He tightened his arm around her and pressed his lips against her hair.

"But I'm not glad you didn't tell me about the Void breach detector going off right away when it happened. You should've woken me up, Doctor! We could have been working on this together today. You promised to stop hiding things from me."

He made a regretful noise. "I'm sorry, Rose. When it went off last night I was shocked, to say the least. I built the thing as a precaution, since this universe has had more than its fair share of trouble with breaches and rifts and the like, but I never thought anything would ever actually _happen. _And then I started calculating the actual probabilities for lack of anything else I could do about it at the moment, and they were so low that I started hoping the thing was just malfunctioning. I didn't want to worry you over nothing."

"Do you think it's malfunctioning? Really?"

He swallowed and looked at the floor. "No, I don't," he said quietly. "But I was hoping. I'm still hoping, to be honest. I haven't proof of anything yet. The first thing I did when we arrived this morning was go down to the Dungeon with the old 3D glasses to see if any of the aliens brought in last night had Void stuff on them. None did, obviously. But I'll know for sure once that scanner is up and running. It should find only ten people on this planet who have the energy signature which only crossing the Void can give, and any number it finds above that is, well, a problem."

"You have any idea how we're gonna deal with that problem?"

At one time that question would have been accompanied by a huge grin, but today Rose couldn't quite manage it. A possible Cyberman/Dalek invasion was never anything to joke about, and made even the recent nearly successful attempts on her husband's life pale in comparison. They'd dealt with this before, sure, but now they had no TARDIS. If he were gravely injured he couldn't regenerate. One chance at a life together, and it seemed like no matter what universe they were in, it conspired against them. Was determined to separate them. It just wasn't fair.

It seemed as if he could read the melancholy turn of her thoughts, because suddenly cool fingers were under her chin and his compassionate dark eyes sought out her anxious ones.

"We'll always be alright, you and me," he said, echoing her words to him from so long ago. "Soon as I figure out what we're dealing with, we'll come up with a plan. We're the Doctor and Rose, remember? Stuff of legends." He grinned broadly, but his eyes were tired, and Rose knew he was trying to convince himself as much as her.


	14. Chapter 13

Amelia Pond was not generally known as an easy girl to impress, and Rory's innumerable attempts to win her admiration over the years had met with varying degrees of success. Now all he'd done was notice a sign and here she was, gazing at him as though he'd hung the moon. He'd never figure her out.

Since beggars can't be choosers, Rory decided to take the credit, as though he'd actually been the one to convince the two lead members of her favorite band not to break up.

Well, who said he hadn't been? Or, perhaps more accurately, wouldn't be? Stranger things had happened.

Amy Pond was not often known to get over-excited either, but when she did it was a beautiful sight to behold. All rosy pink cheeks and sparkling eyes, she now was clutching Rory's arms and hopping up and down in her short brown boots, practically squealing in excitement. Rory thought she was adorable. Many passersby obviously did too, judging by the several warm looks and small indulgent smiles she received.

"A Smiths concert, Rory! The Smiths! I never, ever thought I'd get a chance to go to a Smiths concert! I take back everything bad I said about this planet! It must be a lovely place if Morrissey and Johnny Marr are still friends!

She released him only to dance over and scrutinize the poster in the venue's window.

"It's really them," she said in wonderment. "Not young them, like they looked back in 1985, but the way they look now, on Earth." Brow furrowed, she turned back to Rory. "But how can that be? I mean, I understand how on this planet they can copy things from Earth, like books and movies and even the city structure, but how can they copy people?

"I dunno, think maybe it's an interstellar reunion tour?"

"You know it's not. We've both heard the Doctor tell us a million times that Earth won't achieve interplanetary travel for at least another century."

Abandoning hope that she'd accept his first suggestion, Rory now hesitantly offered what he thought was a more likely explanation. "A cover band, possibly?"

Amy visibly deflated. "More like probably, isn't it?" she said, turning back to the poster, squinting as she inspected it more closely. "But I'm so sure it's them in this picture. Yet... I guess that doesn't prove they're actually the ones playing tonight." She turned back to her husband, eyebrows raised. "Well, guess there's only one way to find out! By asking."

The box office window was half a block further down and Rory wasn't certain they'd even be open this early in the afternoon as he tagged along behind his wife. She quickly arrived at the closed glass window, and without hesitation pressed her face up against it, peering inside as she draped her long body over the sill.

"Hey!" She called loudly to someone visible only to her, pounding the side of her fist against the glass. "I have a question! Hello!"

From where he was standing, behind Amy and off a bit to the side, Rory watched in amusement as she left off banging and resorted to glaring at a person he still couldn't see. After a few seconds the window slowly slid open to reveal a heavy, red-faced man in his mid-forties, who had the air of a person life has conspired against. Actually he was the closest to alien as they'd seen yet on this trip, vaguely resembling the pig-like inhabitants of Phy with his tiny glittering eyes and snub nose. He'd fit the role of club bouncer (or perhaps prison inmate) far better than ticket agent for an exclusive venue.

Despite his rather unsavory appearance, Amy didn't shift back even slightly from her hunched over position in the window. "The sign says the Smiths are playing tonight at 8. Is it really them or is it a cover band?"

The man stared at her blankly. "A wha'?"

"A cover band. You know, band breaks up, but people still love them, so a few musicians get together and play their songs and if they sound enough like the real thing it'll sell tickets. To people who aren't true fans, anyway."

"That's illegal, miss. Impersonation. Ya oughta know that. And this is the Regal Theatre," he said, squaring his shoulders and sounding as if she'd personally insulted him by asking such a question.

"So it's really the Smiths?" Amy was smiling at the man fondly now, like he was her new best friend. "Well, I want two tickets, please!"

His red face flushed even further, if that was possible. "We ain't open yet," he said, sounding slightly apologetic. Amy opened her mouth to argue with him and he sidled back into the protective darkness. "'Sides, show's sold out for tonight."

He was probably glad of the tiny bit of extra distance when a look of extreme displeasure crossed her face. Rory was really hoping she wouldn't fit through the window.

"How can you be sold out? It's a standing-room only venue, isn't it? Surely it can fit two more people?"

"Not up to me. Fire codes an' all."

"Well, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Where's your boss?"

"Manager's not in till six, miss. You can come back then, if ya want. Won't make a difference though."

He was backing away into the darkness, eyeing Amy in grave concern as she proved that her shoulders did indeed fit through the window. Rory thought it best to interfere at this point and put a hand on her back, silently urging her to come away. She shot the ticket agent one last death glare and allowed her husband to remove her from the tiny opening.

Once the window was closed and they'd moved well beyond earshot Rory stopped, grasped Amy's upper arms and turned her to face him. She was too busy pouting to notice that his eyes were twinkling. "Doesn't matter about them being sold out, you know," he said, his smile full of mischief. "We're going to that concert tonight."

Her pouty look transformed immediately into one of interest with a bit of confusion thrown in, obviously wondering what her straight-laced husband could possibly be suggesting.

"C'mon, dear! The Doctor may not be here but if there's one thing we've learned from him it's how to crash a party, right?" Realization dawned in her eyes and they looked at each other, laughing as they spoke in unison.

"Psychic paper!"

* * *

It's two hours later and as much as Rose doesn't want to be away from the Doctor right now she's accomplishing absolutely nothing by sitting in his lab. She knew that having to wait for the scanner to charge up before trying to use it was torturous for him, and while she sat there on the sofa to keep him company he was dealing with the stress the way he usually did- by tinkering.

First he'd checked over his Void breach detector with the sonic for what she suspected was the hundredth time since last night, and when he still didn't find anything wrong with the detector he decided that perhaps there was something wrong with the sonic screwdriver itself. Rose knew this was ridiculous and what's more, she knew _he _knew it, but still. It was keeping him busy and his mind occupied. And Rose would accomplish even less today if she had to spend the rest of the afternoon trailing along behind a restless, stressed-out Doctor, trying to keep him out of trouble.

"Well, at least there's one good thing about this sonic only having fifteen-hundred settings, instead of over three-thousand like my last one. When it acts up it doesn't take as long to figure out what's wrong."

Rose smirked. His words suggest that he is saying something positive but this is really an old complaint, one she's heard a thousand times if she has once. When they'd been left behind on that beach, the Doctor had had his pockets full of items of varying usefulness, but no sonic screwdriver. It hadn't taken him long to cobble one together, but a sonic screwdriver created from Earth resources and some nicked alien tech would never be as good as one made by the TARDIS.

"When your old sonic went wrong, it probably took you days an' days to fix it then, yeah?" she replied innocently to his back.

"Ah, but Rose, that's just it! It didn't, because my other sonic never-" he paused, then scowled when he turned around and saw her amused expression. "You're winding me up."

Getting up from the couch, Rose stepped up to him and kissed the scowl from his lips. "Sorry, but it's too easy. Anyway, love, you don't need my help with that, and I really need to get back to my office for awhile. Got tons of work to catch up on, and if I don't finish that report on why Eric was injured in the last Weevil incident I'll have Hinkel on my back again."

But he'd apparently stopped listening after 'I need to get back to my office' and turned big, sad brown eyes on her. "What? You're just going to abandon me all by myself down here?"

"What do you want me to do, Doctor?" she said crossly. "Sit here and watch in awe and wonderment while you tinker with the sonic?"

The Doctor grinned down at her, a very familiar, very hopeful look in his eye.

"What am I saying?" Rose asked herself, correctly interpreting the look. "Of course you do. But I think you'll be just fine for a couple hours," she said and patted his arm comfortingly. "Just don't go setting off any more alarms or anything today, alright?"

He still looked as though he wanted to argue with her, and Rose smiled inwardly when he heaved a long-suffering sigh and agreed. "Alright. Just make sure you come back in a couple of hours. I'll be here."

"Okay. I'll see you soon then. Love you."

"I love you too."

Rose regretfully headed for the exit, wondering if she would ever _not _feel a toe-curling thrill at hearing those words fall so easily from his lips. But before she could reach the door, it opened and Jake entered the Doctor's lab. He still looked tense, but nowhere near the state of agitation he was in earlier in the day.

"Jakey-boy!" the Doctor greeted him cheerily from across the room, probably hoping this would delay Rose's departure.

"Don't 'Jakey-boy' me," the smaller man replied, but without heat. "I have a major bone to pick with you."

"So I've heard," replied the Doctor, scratching at a sideburn uncomfortably but still looking far more self-possessed than Jake would've liked. "Please accept my sincerest apologies for the extra trouble I caused you today. My only excuse is that I was in a slight panic at the time. I badly needed something out of one of the vaults, and since I don't want Torchwood knowing about it I couldn't use my card, now could I?"

Jake's only response was a slight tilt of the head and raising of eyebrows.

The Doctor shifted defensively. "What? Me apologizing to you is not that unbelievable!"

"No, but you are never this forthcoming with information. Which makes me think you want something."

At this accusation the Doctor pursed his lips, but his expression was otherwise unwavering. "Doesn't mean I'm not sorry."

"Oh ho!" Jake crowed. "I knew it! Only you would think you can apologize to someone and then ask them for a favor in the same bloody sentence. It doesn't work like that, you know. Do you realize how many things you still owe me for? Aside from today? There's the incident with the Pathka, for example. That was over three months ago, and Hinkel still won't accept my explanation as to how _three _company Jeeps ended up so thoroughly destroyed. Or even just last week when Rose was home sick and you forgot-"

"Oi! I get it, Jake! I said I was sorry that I set off the stupid alarms! But forgive me if I don't take the time to go on bended knee when we have a possible Void breach on our hands!"

Jake stilled instantly and Rose shot the Doctor a reproachful look.

He flinched guiltily. "Sorry. I didn't mean to just blurt that out. I don't actually know for sure yet, Jake. Could be nothing. So why don't you pull up a chair and stay awhile? We've got some catching up to do." The Doctor looked over at Rose, silently imploring her to stay as well, and she nodded resignedly.

"I'll stand, thanks," replied Jake. "For some reason the possibility of another Cyber invasion makes it a bit tough to relax. Isn't all this supposed to be over and done since -other you- went back to his universe? Dimensional re-close or whatever?"

"Dimensional retro-closure."

The Doctor was pacing restlessly and Rose could see he was unsure how to begin his explanation. She twined her fingers with his and finally he stopped moving. "The dimensional gaps have been closed, yes, but the walls of this universe had already been irreparably damaged... well, I say irreparably. That's not quite true. The walls are irreparable only because there's no one to repair them. In our original universe, that was one of the duties of a Time Lord."

"But you're a-"

"Yes, and I could do it, even being part-human as I am, but I don't have a TARDIS. It's kind of like if you need to fix an old broken-down wall in your house but none of the supplies you need exist on Earth. Oh, and the house itself is on an unreachable mountain peak."

"Okay, okay, I get the point."

"Anyway, the wall is damaged. As in there are still holes. Not all the way through to the other universe, mind you, my counterpart did his job and fully repaired things on that side. But there are still openings into the Void."

Jake sucked a breath through his teeth. "The Void. As in the happy home of millions of Daleks and Cybermen."

"Yep. So when Rose and I first came here, I could... well, sense this. And I dealt with it in the only way I could. I built an alarm, of sorts. A detector. To tell me if anything breached the walls of this universe. Obviously, it's gone off, or I wouldn't be telling you this little tale."

"And what, Doctor, is the _other_ reason you're telling me this little tale? What do you want me to do? Seems like we should be preparing a team to mobilize."

Rose had been wondering about this as well. It was not the Doctor's usual _modus operandi_ to give out so much information before he had any real answers himself, and the fact that he'd said nothing yet about involving Torchwood was making her a bit anxious. Surely he wasn't thinking that he-

Meandering over to the other side of the lab, the Doctor avoided Jake's question and his wife's eyes as he laid his hand flat on the bio-scanner. It looked rather pitiful at the moment, all hooked up as though it were on life support. But before he could begin explaining to his friend why the contraption would be worth all the trouble it had caused he noticed it was warm, and even vibrating slightly.

"Power! Rose, we've got power! Ha!"

Hurriedly shoving his brainy specs on his nose, he crouched down in front of the machine and without hesitation began twisting the biggest dial while Rose rushed to peer over his shoulder. Jake joined them next, looking confused. The readings on the screen were in some sort of alien language which looked like gibberish to Rose and Jake, but the Doctor's eyes skimmed over it, expertly translating the display while he simultaneously programmed the machine to the setting he wanted.

"Right-o then, here we go! Now, as I'm using the scanner to search for a specific bio-signature, I'll need to have it first analyze one of you so it knows precisely what to look for."

"Excuse me, but what '_precisely' _is it searching for, again?" said Jake, sounding edgy. "Humans who'd like to smack you?"

Rose giggled and the Doctor grinned, turning the fully-functional device in the direction of his irritated friend. He pushed a button and the screen went blue before flashing brightly in Jake's eyes.

"What the- " he snapped, screwing his eyes shut and rubbing them with his fingers.

The Doctor continued grinning maddeningly but didn't answer him as the screen quickly began displaying readouts. He spent half a second reading before he hummed in satisfaction and then, without even glancing at the keypad, began pushing buttons so fast it looked random, looking just like a small child who's gotten hold of a mobile phone.

When he was satisfied he fiddled with the main dial again, stepping back as the screen changed and began to display a map of their current location. Nine glowing red dots and one pink one were displayed prominently in the middle of the map, all clustered together.

"Look, that's us!" declared the Doctor, pointing to the dots. "The three of us, the five agents who also crossed over, and your dad, Rose."

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if he felt a headache coming on. "Not sure why I'm asking this since it doesn't seem like you're capable of answering questions at the moment, but why is one dot a different color?"

"That's me," replied the Doctor in his _I'm being extremely patient _voice, distractedly messing with the screen's contrast.

Now Jake was sure of the headache. He hated the patient voice. "And you just thought you'd look better in pink?"

Rose took pity on Jake, intervening as the screen darkened. "You haven't really explained what you're doing, Doctor."

That got his attention. "Didn't I? I'm sorry, Rose." He sat back in his chair, directing his gaze to Jake and his wife. "Since I used Jake as the control the scanner is searching specifically for human, plus Void stuff. That's what the red dots are. However, I reprogrammed it to exclude human-only, for obvious reasons, leaving Void stuff as the common denominator since that's what we're really looking for. I show up since I meet the main criteria, but as a different color since I don't meet _full _criteria. Keeping up?"

They nodded and the Doctor looked back to the screen as it displayed a new image, of a larger area, but with the same nine dots. A few seconds later a tenth dot appeared, in red, showing up a few inches away from the others.

"And there's your mum, Rose. Where's she at, the shopping center _again_?" the Doctor wondered aloud. "I swear that woman spends half her life and half your father's salary out buying posh clothes, and what is she wearing every time we're over at the mansion?" He leaned in close to his wife's ear. "One of the _same two track suits,_" he revealed in a loud conspiratorial whisper, shooting a scandalized look past her at Jake, who chuckled.

Rose kicked the Doctor gently, laughing, and he grinned. "Shush, now. She wears the posh clothes out and you know it."

The screen darkened again.

"Why's it keep doing that?" asked Rose.

"It's continually recalibrating to scan a larger area," said the Doctor absently as it came back online. "Looks like it scans about 5 more kilometers in each direction every time, more or less."

The expanded image cleared and recalibrated several more times, each time showing the same ten dots as it previously had. They'd just begun to relax a bit when, abruptly, two more dots appeared, on the far west side of the city. Rose gasped and Jake worriedly pushed his finger up against the screen.

His voice was quiet. "And who are they, then?"

"They," replied the Doctor, slowly, "are a problem."

* * *

**I fully apologize for my 'shameless Smiths self-indulgence'. I do not, however, apologize for my frankly magnificent alliteration. **


	15. Chapter 14

**I know everyone is waiting for Rose and her Doctor to find the Ponds, and I promise that is coming in the next chapter! But first, you need to know why Rose is very unhappy about the Doctor going ANYWHERE, and why the TARDIS may have tortured her favorite pilot into coming to this universe. So please forgive me for making you wait, you lovely readers you!**

* * *

_"They," replied the Doctor, slowly, "are a problem."_

* * *

Rose wasn't quite sure how to feel. She was scared, no doubt, but these results had added a healthy dose of confusion to the mix. Of course they'd been hoping the scans would turn up nothing, and the two extra dots were a problem. But then again, they were only two, not the dozens or more she'd so been dreading.

But two made no sense. And the fact that the dots were red made even less. How could they possibly be human?

So far the Doctor was offering no theories, silently watching the screen as it continued to scan, recalibrate, and scan again as the minutes ticked by. Rose spied on him from the corner of her eye, trying to get a read on what he was thinking. He was never this still. Even in sleep he somehow managed to give off a vague impression of barely contained energy, and so its absence in him now left Rose feeling anything but tranquil.

Even Jake was beginning to feel that the silence had become a bit heavy when the Doctor suddenly placed both palms on the edge of the table and shoved his chair back, popping up off of it like he was a tightly coiled spring just released.

He yanked his glasses off and shoved them into the inner coat pocket of his blue pinstriped jacket.

"Well, this isn't so bad now is it?"

Rubbing his hands together, the Doctor sounded entirely unconcerned. "They're definitely not Daleks," he continued, "which is very good news. Their biology is human, so, well, I guess they could be Cybers, possibly. But!" He held up a finger and began to pace, and these were signs Rose and Jake knew well. His unstoppable gob was apparently about to go on a roll.

"There's only two! So just a small problem; hardly the invasion I was expecting. Definitely can't call this an invasion. What would be the correct term? An...annoyance, perhaps?" His cheery smile and tone told them he obviously equated _annoyance_ with sunshine and rainbows and holidays. "An irritation? Doesn't really matter, we'll probably take care of the problem before I can think of the right name for it; it's so small. Anyway, there's just the two and since we've got an idea of their general vicinity we should really make a plan and deal with this now before we lose them. Yes?"

This was met with two incredulous stares.

"I am assuming the 'we' who is formulating the plan is not the same 'we' who is implementing it," said Rose, with no trace of humor.

The Doctor was silent for a moment, faux-cheerfulness fading as he carefully considered his next words. "Who do you think the 'we' should be, then? Torchwood? Because there's no way that's going to happen."

Uh oh. Jake knew that tone. He didn't hear the Doctor use it often, and hardly ever with Rose, but it always meant the same thing. _Discussion over. _Trying to argue with him now would be like trying to argue with a concrete slab.

But Rose was getting out of her chair, and with interest Jake noted the look of utter determination on her face as she stared down her husband. Doing a good job of it too, he thought, even though the Doctor was nearly a head taller than she. She was bringing a jackhammer to this fight.

"Oh, really? So you think that you're gonna be the one to just swan out there in the open, no one but Jake and I to back you, and risk your life again because of an unknown threat that a few agents _who are not us_ are more than capable of handling?"

The Doctor scrubbed a hand through his hair and tried to stay calm, not wanting to turn this into an out and out fight. "I understand why you're worried, Rose, and I'm sorry, but I don't see that as an option. For example, how exactly are we going to present this to Torchwood?"

He turned away from her and started miming a conversation with an invisible group. "Fellow agents, we need a team dispatched immediately. Threat in the theatre district. Two humans, with Void stuff, identifiable by use of 3D glasses, need to be brought in for questioning. What's that? You won't dispatch a team without knowing more about this supposed threat? Like _why_ these two unknown little humans are so threatening? Alright, then, here it is- I strongly believe they crawled out of the Void into our universe. There's no possible way for me to know this, unless I admit that I'm an alien, with powers you've never heard of, even with all the species you've dealt with. Like the ability to control time, and see in different dimensions."

Rose had said nothing through all of this, but her body language had become a bit less rigid. She didn't like it, but at least she was listening.

He faced her and softened his tone, willing her to understand. "Then Torchwood says, 'Well, Doctor, now that we know you're an alien, we have no choice but to process you, perhaps imprison you since you've been lying to us.'" _And we'll also imprison your wife and implicate Pete Tyler_, he thought but didn't voice.

"And you both know what they start with. Telepathic assessment. What do you think Torchwood will do when they find out I'm approximately 35 times more powerful a telepath than any such kind they've catalogued yet?"

_"Doctor!"_ Rose hissed, casting a horrified glance at Jake.

But the Doctor was unrepentant. "I see him. I trust Jake, and right now I also need him to understand why it is crucial that we, as in the _three of us, _carry out this plan without involving anyone else."

Rose bit her lip, still unsure how to respond to this, and Jake was totally distracted from the current issue by this rather stunning revelation. "So if you're that powerful a telepath, and those Ganglies have been able to control _your_ mind, does that mean that they're even more powerful yet?" he asked, and when the Doctor and Rose gave each other a look he took it as an affirmation.

"Geez, it's a good thing they haven't shown signs of doing harm to anybody but you." He whistled, long and low. "That's just unbelievable. I wonder if they realize they could pretty much take over the Earth with that kind of psychic power? They could control anyone they wanted to."

Pausing in his rumination, Jake looked up at the Doctor, suspicion suddenly clouding his hazel eyes. "You've never telepathically manipulated me, have you? Or anyone else who works here, for that matter?"

He didn't really believe the Doctor would do that, but yet- it would explain a lot. Jake had often wondered how the Time Lord got away with half the shenanigans he pulled. But now Rose was glaring at Jake reproachfully, and stroking her husband's arm in a comforting manner. Jake blinked as he looked properly at the Doctor's face. He'd seen the man in about every possible mood over the years but... no, he'd never seen him look so hurt.

What had he said?

"He doesn't understand, Doctor, you know that," Rose was saying. "I didn't know what it meant either, until you explained it to me. Remember? I practically propositioned you without realizing."

That got a small smile out of him and his eyes flicked back to Jake, who was confused, yet understood he'd said something very wrong.

"No, I would never do something like that, Jake," said the Doctor quietly. "It would be a- a personal violation, to enter or manipulate someone's mind without permission. I'd need a very, very good reason," he added, thinking regretfully of the last time he'd been angry enough to do so, of _six words_ with which he'd brought down a prime minister and had unwittingly paved the way for things to go so horribly wrong thereafter.

"On my home planet, really across the universe for all telepathic races, it would be considered a crime to do such a thing, and privately I've believed all along that is why the- _Ganglies_, as you lot persist in calling them- haven't used their power to control or harm anyone but me. Apparently, they think I deserve it, and I certainly wish I could figure out why. If I were still in the other universe it would make only too much sense. I interfered in the lives of many people, many species, lots of them weren't too happy about it. But I haven't ever even been _off planet_ since I've been here," he said, sounding tired all of a sudden. "I must just have a hit on me that's valid across the multi-verse."

Rose's eyes were red and the Doctor, noticing, swept her up in a hug. "But nobody's claimed the reward money yet! And they won't," he told her fiercely. "Sooner or later a team is gonna come in with one of those Long-Limbs all trussed up, and now that I have my favorite scanner working all it'll take is one bio-sample and we'll have the rest of his gang as well. See, I have a new secret weapon," he said, grinning at her, as he reached a hand out to pat it fondly.

"Well, they're still out there tonight," replied Rose crossly, though she was smiling at him. "So if we're going out after these Void crossers you'd better get on making one very tight, _quick_ plan. The less opportunity they have to get their hands on you, the better."

"You got it, Lewis."

His eyes were sparkling, gleaming even, in a way that Rose hadn't seen in _weeks_. Her heart skipped a beat when he impulsively leaned forward and caught her mouth with his, inciting an indignant "_Oi!"_ from Jake, who was still sitting in his chair right next to them.

Releasing her with a soft _pop_ and a brilliant grin, the Doctor purposefully turned away. He pushed on his glasses and bent down in front of the scanner in full out plan-making mode, apparently too wired to sit.

Rose smiled down at Jake a bit sheepishly and he grinned back, raising his eyebrows knowingly at her.

"Doesn't look like he needs telepathy to manipulate you," he told her with a wink.

* * *

Afternoon was wearing into evening and Amy still hadn't found the right outfit for the concert. She'd disappeared more than forty minutes earlier into a dressing room, loaded down with garments, and Rory hadn't heard a peep out of her since. He didn't mind. He was waiting in a very comfortable chair.

He jumped when he felt a rough nudge to his shin.

"Wake up, stupid face! I wasn't in there that long," she complained, screwing her mouth up in a childish pout, as though she'd expected him to be waiting in eager expectation for her grand appearance.

Rory yawned, and blinked tiredly. "Sorry."

"Well, what do you think?" She struck a pose for him, a purposefully exaggerated version of the pout-face that had been her trademark during her modeling days. Rory smiled at her. She looked fantastic, in a softly clinging pale green dress which she had paired with the short brown boots she'd been wearing all day. The dress had a halter-top, then skimmed flawlessly over her body to flare out just below her knee, slightly longer in the back. Normally her look of choice was far more edgy, which suited her, but in this dress she was just stunning- beautiful and feminine.

"You look amazing. It's perfect," he said, admiring her as she twirled around for his benefit. "I can't wait to show you off and make all the other blokes at the concert envious, and I'm not just saying that 'cos I'm tired of waiting. Although we do need to get going if we want to have dinner before the show," he added, getting to his feet. "The doors open at 6:30, so we should be there early if we want get as close to the stage as possible."

"Oh, I want. And I'm ready. Where are we going for dinner, then? That charming little Italian place we saw down the block from the venue? It would be convenient."

"Brilliant."

"Just let me get my things." Amy ducked back into the dressing room to grab her purse and the shopping bag that now contained not just her book but the outfit she'd been wearing earlier. She pulled some cash out of a small zippered compartment and quickly headed for the checkout, not wanting to waste another minute. In such a hurry was she, she never even thought about checking the mobile phone which had been crammed into a corner of the small purse, its voice muffled and urgent and unheard for the last hour.

In fact, so excited had she been about the concert, she hadn't had an extra thought to spare for the poor Time Lord waiting for them back at the TARDIS. A Time Lord who had been feeling rather out of the loop all afternoon and anxious about his still broken-down ship, amongst other things. And frustrated, because he could take no action on anything until she _wasn't_ broken down.

* * *

Back on the TARDIS, the Doctor slammed down the phone with a growl. Great, just great. Absolutely fantastic. Broken ship, mysterious threats, rival part-human Time Lord, long-lost love untouchable but within arm's reach- and now, missing companions. What else could possibly go wrong?


	16. Chapter 15

Amy and Rory were surprised and pleased to find the agreed upon restaurant was half empty, and on a Friday night, even.

Though after an hour and a half of toe-tapping, finger drumming, and searching for their waiter, they understood, very well and too late, the reason for that.

At least the concert venue was less than three blocks away, and after _finally _getting (and reluctantly paying) their cheque, they ran to join the discouraging large queue of people standing outside of the main entrance.

"Don't worry dear, it'll be fine," said Rory to a rather worried-looking Amy. "We have the psychic paper. We'll get in, no problem."

Which they did, though it took a while.

But quite a lot of other people had also gotten in, 'no problem', before they had. Unfortunately the Ponds were now standing behind most of them, the stage a tiny island in the far-off distance, barely discernible over the sea of heads.

"I'll never be able to see properly," said Amy mournfully, as she shifted for the fifteenth time to try and get farther away from the gorilla-sized man who had wedged his way into the crowd in front of her. "What exactly did you tell the psychic paper again?"

"I told it to get us into this concert," Rory asserted, suddenly feeling defensive. "What else could I say?"

"Well, 'get us entrance to the good seats' would've been nice," retorted Amy, looking longingly at the VIP balcony stretching out above and slightly behind them, which was a nicely spaced out area with tables to sit at. But the balcony was a reserved area, and entrance by way of the staircase to their left was blocked by a security guard. The lucky people who had seats set aside for them above apparently had no need of arriving at the venue more than an hour early, since it was still mostly empty.

"It wouldn't have made a difference," said Rory, exasperated. "Our names aren't on the list for those seats, and not even the psychic paper can help that."

"I know," admitted his wife, wrinkling up her nose at him by way of apology. "I'm just disappointed, is all."

The Regal Theatre was really a nice place, living up to its name, though Amy was rethinking her earlier rapid dismissal of its fire codes. Although the theatre itself was large and spacious, done up lavishly with rich reds and browns and golds, a high vaulted ceiling and the afore-mentioned balcony, it was kind of difficult to appreciate the decor when you were swallowed up in a gigantic swarm of people. They could be in an old pub basement for all the difference it made.

Yes, it was disappointing, the circumstances far from ideal, and yet...there was a friendly camaraderie forming as the crowd settled down, a buzzing enthusiasm that was quite infectious and it quickly began to permeate and dissipate Amy's bad mood. _"How can I be upset?"_ she asked herself, suddenly unable to understand why on earth she had been. She was at a _Smiths_ concert. Her favorite band, who'd broken up _years _ago, and regardless of the environment she was _gonna hear them play. _She'd put up with a lot worse than this for such an amazing opportunity.

Rory blinked at Amy in confusion when she suddenly threw her arms around his waist and beamed up at him. "You know what?" she said, eyes sparkling with excitement, "tonight is going to be _fantastic."_

* * *

Back at Torchwood, the promised 'quick, tight plan' was not coming together very well. Or at all. When the Doctor had attempted to pinpoint the exact location of the two superfluous dots, a necessary first step of the plan, the image on the screen had stuttered, disappeared completely, and was replaced by a blank, frustrating blue.

That was over two hours ago, and the Doctor had yet to get it working properly. His hair told the story of his (at times almost frantic) efforts, standing entirely on end from his repeated yanking on it. As Rose stood near him she resisted the urge to smooth it down.

He looked calmer now, but only because he was repairing some delicate wiring on a circuit board. Long experience with circuit boards had taught him that slow, painstaking actions, while not nearly as satisfying, would yield much better results than cracking the thing hard against the table, and were also far more effective than shouting at it.

Rose and Jake had been mostly silent for the last hour, having long ago given up offering him any suggestions, but neither of them had dared leave him alone to go back to their respective jobs. It didn't matter now. Quitting time had come and gone.

After he finished the task, the Doctor carefully slid the circuit board back in place, then powered the scanner up again. All three held their breath until the machine finally, successfully, came back online.

Breathing simultaneous sighs of relief, both Jake and Rose looked over at the Doctor. He had visibly relaxed once it began the scans and the first results had reappeared. Eyes were glued to the screen, he scarcely moved for several minutes until it finally displayed the location of the two extras, who by some miracle seemed to be in the same part of town as they were earlier. Tongue to teeth, the Doctor painstakingly zoomed in on their location, and after he'd successfully locked it in, he grabbed his laptop from the other end of the table and flipped it open.

"Our little friends must be seeing the sights today," he remarked conversationally, as his hands flew to pull up the same map on his laptop to obtain the desired street name and address. He frowned, squinting at it. "Or, well, having dinner, it seems. At... _Luigi's Italian Bistro_."

Looking up, he pulled off his glasses and rubbed the marks they left. "Makes sense, actually," he added, looking up at Rose and Jake with a humorous little smirk. "If I'd just crawled out of the void of non-existence the first thing I'd want to do is have dinner, wouldn't you? Though not Italian food. Chips for me, I think."

"Sounds an awful lot like old leather and big ears' idea of a date," replied Rose. "Crawl out of the Void, watch the Earth burn, whatever. Long as we get chips after."

"Oi! No more with the leather and big ears!" Sniffing, the Doctor drew himself up to his full height. "We agreed to refer to him as my 'ninth self', remember?"

"Ha," Rose snorted. "Like I ever agreed to that. You _insisted _that I call him that, but I refused to, for obvious reasons."

"What- what _reasons_?"

Casually chewing a fingernail, Rose pretended to give this some thought. "Well, first and foremost, that is how I always think of him in my _heart," _she responded, placing a palm on her chest for dramatic effect. She quickly threw that same palm up to shush his ready retort. "Secondly," she continued, "what if someone overhears us? If I say _leather and big ears_, that's fine, it's just an old boyfriend I'm talking 'bout, thanks. But if I go around speaking of _your ninth self_," not sparing him a grimace for the idea, "people are going to think I'm completely mental!"

Jake was long used to ignoring the couple's bewildering conversations but he couldn't resist this. "I hate to break it to you, Tyler, but it's way too late for that. Everyone in this building decided you were mental after you showed up one day with this lunatic on your arm, then married him quicker than a blink. Especially since you'd ignored every nice, handsome, _normal_ bloke who came by for four years, and instead chose this one with his sketchy history, who, while obviously a genius, barely managed to pass himself off as human those first few weeks. Let alone sane."

Despite the unflattering truthfulness of this, Rose shrugged, unbothered, but the Doctor gaped at both of them.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" he asked, voice pitching higher. "I'm handsome! I'm nice! Right, Rose?"

Rose smiled at him. "Course you are. Didn't matter how nice and handsome those boys were anyway, I only like Time Lords, remember?"

Normally that would've earned her a smug "_quite right"_ at least, but today his only response was a tight smile which didn't seem to reach his eyes. Rose frowned, a bit taken aback.

"All right, you two can flirt later," Jake interrupted. "Let's grab the gear we need and go. You still have a lock on their location, Doctor?"

"On it," he replied, crouching down for one last look at the bio-scanner. Jake bounded over to the other side of the lab to grab a torch and a few other useful items, which he began to shove in his backpack.

"You need anything from your office, Rose?" the Doctor called without looking up.

"Yes. My purse is up there, and I need to change shoes at least. No way am I running anywhere in these monsters," said Rose, kicking up a high-heeled foot as she made her way to the door. "I'll meet you boys at the parking garage exit on Five in ten minutes, okay?"

But it was not to be. For the second time that afternoon, Rose's departure was prevented by another person's entrance. She stifled a groan at the sight of Torchwood's longtime CEO, and more recently, her immediate superior, Gerald Hinkel, stepping gingerly into the Doctor's lab- his air much like that of a king who's deigned to enter a peasant's hut.

As soon as Rose saw him she knew what was coming. The intimidating, perpetually stern-faced man almost never spoke to her unless he had a reason to do so, and since she'd taken on the new position of deputy director his reason was nearly always some paperwork that she hadn't completed and turned over to him as quickly as he would have enjoyed.

No one could deny that many of the traits that made Hinkel less-than-endearing also made him perfect for the office of CEO; under his rule things were done, done properly, and on time. Great for the company. But as Rose had lately discovered, not so great when you were the one standing in the way of him fulfilling what he obviously saw as his ultimate mission in life.

He was actually one of the first people Rose got acquainted with after being trapped in this universe. She'd seen him frequently when she lived at the mansion that first difficult year since he, as a Torchwood higher-up, spent a fair number of hours there. Although most of his time was passed with Pete in his office, he'd often had dinner with the family afterwards. She had tried to be friendly and get to know him (even in the early days when she was heartbroken and nearly hopeless Rose could never not care about others) but his manner toward her was at best lukewarm, though he would laugh and even joke with her parents. Even without her special talent for reading people Rose would have been able to see that he disapproved of her. Or more specifically- he disapproved of her having been made field agent at Torchwood, a position he saw as undeserved and unearned.

Rose could understand it. From his standpoint, she was just an ordinary young girl, (who, despite her asserted experience with aliens, had been unemployed for _years)_ who waltzed into the life and employ of one of the most powerful men in the world, all by the courtesy of her mother. And to be fair, everyone at Torchwood had been a little wary of her at first. Rose had worked hard to show that her position at the company had not been given based on nepotism. It helped that Jake had been a staunch supporter from the start, and by the time Rose had dealt with her first real field assignment she'd won the respect and admiration of most of her colleagues by her own merits.

But Hinkel remained unimpressed and Rose, aside from feeling that she'd greatly enjoy seeing him have to deal with real live aliens at some point (instead of just reading about the incidents and critiquing how it was handled), didn't really care about his opinion.

Well, it was easy to not care when she had no direct dealings with him. That was different now, he'd been really getting under her skin, and Rose was frustrated with herself for letting him. Not that he'd done anything that she could put a finger on specifically. But his manner continuously left no doubt that he looked down on her, disapproved of her promotion, and (the real sting) she was certain he was relishing the power he'd been given over her. But Rose was determined to deal with him on her own, and had uttered not a word of complaint to the Doctor.

Not yet addressing the expectant young woman standing directly in front of him, Hinkel's gaze was sharp and almost raptor-like as he intently surveyed the goings-on of the lab. Rose idly wondered if she would hear that funny tone in his voice again when he finally spoke. Commanding, irritated, yet with more than a hint of triumph as he pointed out her failings.

Having completed his inspection he finally turned his unsmiling attention to Rose. "What are you doing that it needs to be so dark in here? I would think it would be quite dangerous to be working with chemicals, or _whatever_ it is you're doing, in such an environment." His tone left no doubt that his money was on 'whatever', and that 'whatever' probably involved Rose, her husband, darkness, and very little work, despite Jake's obvious presence.

Rose offered up what she knew sounded like a feeble explanation. "Having the overhead lights on bothers the Doctor's eyes."

"Maybe _John _would be better off wearing a pair of sunglasses, or perhaps making an appointment to have his eyes examined if that doesn't help."

A far-too-cheerful voice piped up from behind her. "Nah, sunglasses wouldn't do at all for watching my new little telly over here! Rose, come 'ere, I've almost got the resolution perfected, love! You should really check this out too, Gerry- I've just got this little baby off a Kratan airship and I can pick up the football matches in Brazil with her! Isn't that brilliant?"

Rose hid a smile even as she cringed inwardly. His little outburst wasn't going to help; but the fact that her boss had managed to anger the Doctor in less than two minutes made her feel strangely vindicated. And she had to admit he was clever about it, as always- the invitation to watch, combined with the _Gerry,_ virtually insured that the man would go nowhere near the scanner.

Hinkel's jaw was tight and he steadfastly ignored the manically grinning, ridiculous-haired man. "I've stayed late hoping that Weevil report would show up in my inbox, but I take it you haven't finished it yet," he said to Rose, in a tone like that of a stern headmaster.

She tried not to look guilty but feared she wasn't quite managing it. Even with her back to him Rose could tell the Doctor was watching this exchange intently, and felt his strong disapproval radiating throughout the room. She silently willed him to keep his mouth shut.

"No, I'm so sorry; something important came up this afternoon. Will it be alright if I have it in your inbox by morning?"

Hinkel did not look as if he were reassured by this offer. "I suppose it will have to be. I come in at seven. I'll look for it then." He turned and left the room without saying goodbye.

"Wow, he sure is a git, isn't he?" observed Jake unnecessarily.

"Yes," agreed the Doctor, tight-jawed, "and thanks to his lovely visit, we've been delayed, _again, _and our targets have moved. Thankfully, they haven't gone far," he added, consulting his computer. "Looks like they've gone to a music club a few blocks down from the restaurant." He puffed up his cheeks and blew out a breath, looking up at them. "Rats. Gonna be tougher to get in there."

"Maybe." Rose looked thoughtful. "It will definitely be tougher for the Ganglies to follow us in, should they pick up your scent once we leave here, and that's actually very, very good. As for us getting in, well, why don't I call Robert?"

"Robert? As in _PR _Robert? Why would we get your dad's public relations guy involved?" he asked, sounding perilously close to whiny. There was no love lost between the Doctor and the man who had tried so fervently to conform him to the Tyler family's "perfect" image, a task comparable to that of fitting a Tasmanian Devil into a family of elegant swans. The long-suffering PR agent felt it was homage to his rather extraordinary talent that the husband of the Vitex heiress was publicly known as simply eccentric, but lovable- all due to the spin he'd been too frequently called to put on (what the man privately told Pete Tyler) "your son-in-law's _nightmarish _behavior."

"Because it's clever. Now," she pointed at the pouting Time Lord, "just listen to my plan, and don't sulk. I'm sure it's too late to get tickets at this point, and it'll draw too much attention to go storming in there as Torchwood agents, yeah? But Robert will be pleased to gain entrance for Rose Tyler, _Vitex heiress," _she said, affecting a posh accent, "and _Britain's darling, _(the Doctor rolled his eyes) John Smith, especially if Robert gets to tip off the paparazzi."

"Tip off the _paparazzi_? How is that a good idea?"

"They'll be like an added layer of security outside the doors. It's perfect, admit it." Rose smiled at her husband triumphantly. "'Sides, Robert's gonna want something for purposefully allowing you out in public."

"Oi!"

Rose ignored him as she sashayed elegantly to the door. "Fix your hair, love, I'm going to change and get my things. Looks like you're taking me out on a real date tonight."

* * *

Time had been passing rather slowly in the close, humid club and Amy looked at her watch. Good; it was now only twenty minutes to show-time.

Suddenly from behind her the crowd's quiet murmuring picked up, becoming an excited buzz. People were turning around, pointing and staring while they whispered animatedly to one another.

"What's going on?" she asked Rory, who simply shrugged while trying to peer over heads. "Is the band coming in already?"

When she twisted around and looked in the direction that the crowd seemed to be focusing their attention, Amy saw, not the famous musicians she was hoping for, but three people she didn't recognize- a pretty blonde girl in a simple but classy knee-length black dress, accompanied by a tall, dark-haired man in a bright blue suit, and a shorter man with nondescript clothing and a bored expression. The blonde seemed quite uncomfortable with all the attention, though offering a polite, shy smile to those who greeted her, as opposed to the tall man, who was grinning brightly, shaking hands and happily speaking to anyone he passed.

As the three made their way up the staircase to the balcony Amy turned to the young pony-tailed girl at her right and tapped her shoulder.

"Excuse me, but who are they? Celebrities of some kind?"

The girl stared at Amy with gleaming, though disbelieving, eyes. "You don't know? That's _Rose Tyler, _the Vitex Heiress, and her husband, John Smith. They're almost never seen in public!" She looked away so she could continue to watch them ascend the stairs. "Isn't he adorable?" the girl sighed dreamily. "I never thought he'd be even more handsome in person! And of course Rose is as beautiful as ever."

"Who's the other man?"

Shrugging without taking her eyes off the three, the girl replied, "Oh, I don't know, probably just their bodyguard or something." She and Amy continued to watch them as they were seated at a table at the very front of the balcony, near the railing. They were in easy view of anyone who wanted to look, and after she sat down, the blonde, the _heiress, _turned sideways to face her husband, placed her elbow on the table and hid her profile with a hand.

Amy turned to Rory. "Vitex? Vitex; where have I heard that before?"

"Um, bright-green, nasty drink? Lunch time? Remember?"

"Oh yeah, that's right." Amy made a face at the memory, but she was quickly losing interest in these celebrities she'd never heard of. She checked her watch again. "Ugh, still fifteen minutes to go. Speaking of drinks, would you mind going to the bar and getting us a couple? It'll help pass the time."

A tittering went through the arena and the Ponds joined the upward gazes to see the Vitex man calmly surveying the crowd from his seat, as solemn as could be, through a pair of _3D glasses. _They were the old fashioned kind too, complete with blue and red lenses, and combined with his messy hair and oddly-colored suit made him look just like a mad scientist. He was either unaware of or completely unbothered by the amused attention this was drawing from the people below, and Amy wondered how long it would have gone on if his wife hadn't suddenly spoken to him, then nudged his arm lightly when he didn't seem to hear her. Finally, after giving the blonde a quick glance and a wild grin, he pulled the glasses off, but as he did so, Amy had the uncomfortable certainty that he'd been staring directly at _her_.

In fact, she was pretty sure that he still was.

Utterly bemused, Amy blinked and looked at Rory.

"Drinks?" he offered, and she nodded.


End file.
